


Let Your Heart Rule Your Head

by LadyMadrigal



Series: The Kensington Tales [5]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Established Relationship, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Underage
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25070389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMadrigal/pseuds/LadyMadrigal
Summary: Aziraphale Shepard thinks that he can finally leave his traumatic past behind, but he's about to find out that it's far more complicated than he ever could have imagined.Note - the past underage/non-con bits will have NO retelling whatsoever, but based on the ages of some of the characters, it's obvious what happened.And there will be multiple chapters. I just screwed something up when I posted it....
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The Kensington Tales [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1941532
Comments: 27
Kudos: 53





	1. An Angel and a Rock and Roller

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to "Winter's Tale." It will earn the rating in later chapters. It's going to be darker in spots than the first story, because Aziraphale's past isn't pretty, but there will still be lots of fluff. 
> 
> And I _may_ have been the actual perpetrator of Crowley's first fanfic story. What can I say? I was not a normal child. 
> 
> The title is from a song on one of Brian May's solo albums, BTW.

It was rather disconcerting to discover that, as far as the General Registrar’s Office was concerned, you didn’t exist. 

Granted, there had been many times in Aziraphale Shepard’s not-quite twenty-four years of existence when he’d rather wished he hadn’t, but this wasn’t one of them. 

“It’s not coming up with anything…” He looked around at his boyfriend Crowley Deveraux-Gordon in bewilderment. “I’m sure I was born in Tadfield. It’s what it said. I remember it.” 

“Where in Tadfield?” Crowley leaned closer to look at the laptop screen, which was advising NO MATCH FOUND.

“St. Beryl’s Birthing Hospital. Crowley, I know I have one. I remember my father hauling me to get my license and they needed it.” Unlike his father and aggressively macho brothers, Aziraphale had easily earned his full license, rather than an “automatic only” one. 

“That is weird…” Crowley had no idea. Given his boyfriend’s estrangement from his abusive family, asking them for a copy of his birth certificate was out of the question. 

Aziraphale flinched as Storm Colin sent another wave of rain and wind into the window wall nearby. The flat, however, was cozy, no longer as spare and minimalist as it had been when Aziraphale had first moved in back in December after getting unexpectedly – and illegally – evicted. Now they had pictures and framed prints on the walls, a nicely stocked pantry and all the appropriate cooking equipment, two new chairs for the front room, some vintage plant stands for Crowley’s indoor rainforest’s worth of houseplants and the dining room table they were currently sitting at with Crowley’s laptop, looking in bewilderment at the website insisting that Aziraphale Zachariah Shepard, born 7 March 1996 at St, Beryl’s Birthing Hospital, Tadfield, UK, didn’t exist. 

“Ask Jim or someone at work. There’s probably some trick to it that we don’t know about,” Crowley said. “We’ll figure it out. Now come snuggle with me?” He made big hazel puppy eyes at Aziraphale. It had been a long day and he wanted to be in his angel’s arms. 

“Good idea.” Aziraphale was a little too tired to deal with it at the moment – and had no intention of turning down a good long snuggle. He closed Chrome, shut the lid of the laptop to hibernate it and willingly followed Crowley to the sofa. “Why were you yelling at the computer earlier?”

“It insisted on rebooting for an update, then wanted to link my phone to my Microsoft account, then was determined it was going to reset my browser to Edge and get rid of Chrome. Not happening.” Crowley sprawled across the sofa in a tangle of elegant limbs and long red waves and held his arms out to Aziraphale, who happily burrowed close. 

“I’m glad tomorrow’s Friday,” he said, kissing Crowley softly on the mouth before nestling into his usual position, curled against him. He was still getting used to having a boyfriend who not only tolerated his need for love and affection, but actively encouraged it. 

“Me too.” Crowley hugged him tighter, looking forward to the day when Aziraphale felt secure enough to not need an invitation to curl up with him. 

“You guys don’t have any gigs this weekend?” Crowley was in a band called Apocalypse Not. They were working sporadically on an album, but Aziraphale was starting to suspect that nobody’s heart was really in it right now. 

“Not with Sparrow about to have her baby any moment.” Sparrow was bassist Jamie Rossi’s wife. “And I have to confess something to you, angel. I don’t know if I could do what Freddie and the others do. I went along with them briefly on a couple of tours – I went to Japan with them last year – and I don’t think I could handle being on the road like that. I mean, I love playing, I love making music, but I don’t want to be away touring for months on end.” He kissed Aziraphale’s nose. “I like coming home to my own bed.” _And my angel_ , he thought, but didn’t say it. 

“I hope you’re not just saying that because of me.” Aziraphale had never said as much, but he dreaded the idea of going out on the road with Crowley – and dreaded the idea of him being away for months on end touring even more. But he’d learn to deal with anything his boyfriend wanted, because the idea of life without Crowley was infinitely worse.

“Angel…” Crowley kissed him. “We talked about it, Rich, Jamie and I. We started playing because it’s fun. We don’t want it to get to the point where it’s not fun anymore.” He stretched and shifted position, then curled around Aziraphale again. “There’s another band at the studio who want Jamie to produce their album. I think he’d be good at it. Rich is going back to school. And me – well, I’m still trying to figure out how not to be completely useless.” His parents were both well-known actors but he didn’t quite have the drive – or the concentration – to follow in their footsteps, which left him in the unenviable position of being famous simply because his parents were. He felt as though he should have been doing something far more constructive with his life, but he didn’t know what. 

“You’re not useless.” Aziraphale looked at him.

“Compared to you, I totally am. Look at you. You’re out there making money and contributing to society and here I am just being – well, a spoiled ditzy rich kid who’s never done a constructive thing in his life.”

“Because I didn’t have a choice. I’m nothing special, really. I’m just a secretary who was barely bright enough to get through school.” He’d made it through, but had never taken his GCSEs. His father had deemed it “unnecessary for someone so blindingly stupid.” He’d been sent to a conversion camp instead to torture the gay out. His escape had first left him homeless and then at the mercy of an abusive boyfriend, at least until he ended up abandoned and alone. 

“Angel, don’t put yourself down. I watch you at work sometimes and I’m absolutely in awe of you. I couldn’t do what you do. And everything you went through to get where you are now? Honestly, I’m so proud to be yours.”

Aziraphale blushed. “If you keep talking about me like that, I might actually believe it someday.” He smiled shyly at Crowley. “Besides, you’re not spoiled. You appreciate everything you have, And you contribute. You just don’t go around telling everyone about it.” He honestly couldn’t say that Crowley wasn’t ditzy because – well, he honestly was. His obvious intelligence made his brain freezes all the more endearing. “I just don’t want you to give all that up just because of me.”

“I’m not giving anything up that I don’t want to. Promise.” Crowley kissed him softly. “I’m just figuring out what’s most important to me. And speaking of important, are you looking forward to your birthday, angel?” He kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head, nuzzling into his white-blonde curls. They made an odd couple and he realized it. Aziraphale was several inches shorter than he was and rather plump, with huge, expressive blue eyes and sweetly angelic features. Crowley himself was tall and slim, darkly, broodingly handsome (according to everyone else – he just thought he looked weird) with a long tangled riot of red waves and those weirdly pale hazel eyes, usually hidden behind sunglasses when he was out thanks to bright light being one of his worst migraine triggers. He’d had a couple of bad relationships of his own – nothing as catastrophic as Aziraphale’s, just the kind that misfired on one or two cylinders – but had a big, chaotic and adoring family who stood by him no matter what. 

“I…guess?” It wasn’t that Aziraphale wasn’t. It was just that he hadn’t had anyone make anything of his birthday in so long that he really didn’t know how to feel about it. Last year the other two secretaries, Holly and Maddy, had taken him out to lunch, and the three attorneys – Jim Beach, Eliza McCallister and Ned Lockwood – had gotten him a cake and a Waterstones gift card. Crowley had dropped by, but their friendship was in the early stages at the time. Not that they hadn’t been completely smitten with each other already; they were both just too afraid to admit it. It was, as he’d confessed much later, the first thing anyone had done for his birthday since he was nine and his Nanny Rose had made him a cake and gotten him a few presents. He would have liked to have written it off to his ultra-religious parents not celebrating birthdays, but his brothers had always gotten parties and gifts. They just hadn’t been into celebrating his. 

“You shouldn’t feel guilty about it. There’s nothing wrong with being the center of attention every now and then, you know,” Crowley said, hugging him tighter. Aziraphale’s birthday was next Saturday and he had big plans for his angel. Very big plans. Plans involving an engagement ring. This Saturday’s plans, however, involved going with Maddy Baker to meet her cousin Carlton Norman at the airport. Brian was stuck at the studio and she’d requested backup. Aziraphale had volunteered and Crowley had offered to drive. He didn’t mind. He liked Maddy. 

_“You don’t seem excited about it,” Crowley had said. “I thought you and he got along.”_

_“We do. But he’s – well, different…” she said, making a wry face. “He means well, he really does, but he’s the human equivalent of an Irish Setter. Nice, but – not really very bright.”_

“Depends on why you’re the center of attention,” Aziraphale said with a shiver. 

“True. Faceplanting into your lunch tray in the cafeteria, for example, is bad center of attention. Unless it isn’t you.”

“You did that?”

“Actually, no. It was the footballer type who’d just shoved me face-first into the wall and called me – well – something ugly…” Crowley wasn’t about to repeat the homophobic epithet. “They couldn’t say I tripped him or anything because I was about twenty feet away at the time, crying and wondering if my nose was broken.”

Aziraphale kissed him. “I would have tripped him if I’d been there. I would have been that really shy ugly kid who had the big crush on you who you would never have wanted anything to do with in a million years.”

“Stop that. I’ve seen those few old pictures of you. You were, and still are, absolutely adorable.” Crowley kissed him again. “And you keep forgetting that I’m a nerd who used to get in trouble because all of my creative writing assignments were _Doctor Who_ fanfiction.” 

“I still want to read some of what you’ve written,” Aziraphale said. 

“No you don’t,” Crowley said. “It was bad. I also wrote bandfic. Only instead of stories about meeting the band and getting to kiss the lead singer, I wrote a story that was supposed to be about the band in question – Cheap Trick, my mom is crazy about them and got me liking them, too – driving the band’s bus off the Golden Gate Bridge and landing on the Golden Gate Bridge, except it was the year 4001 and everything had been blown up because there’d been a nuclear war, and they had to go back and forth through time and fix it. Or would have if I’d had the ability to find a plot and stick to it.” He looked sheepish. “I’m in it, but in the third person, mostly, Tianna was in it and there’s one scene where her, the band and I are taking over the White House with an army of flying cats and evicting Ronald Regan because it all started with something he did. I think. I think Flash Gordon was in it, too.”

“If you ever find where you wrote all that down, I want to read it,” Aziraphale said. 

“No, you really don’t. It was bad.”

“How old were you?”

“Eleven, twelve. Around in there.” He looked even more embarrassed. “I almost named Mehitibel “Lauren Laurel” instead, because that was the name of one of the winged cats. And she was supposed to be blue.” He kissed Aziraphale’s nose. “And now that I’ve admitted what an utter dork I am…”

“Crowley, stop. I think you’re really cool,” Aziraphale said. “Cooler than I ever was or will be.”

“Angel…” Crowley kissed him again. “You’re stronger and braver than I’ll ever be.”

“I’m not, I just – did what I had to do. There wasn’t anything strong or brave about it. I was scared and I ran away.”

“Don’t minimize yourself, love.” Crowley hugged him closer. 

They stayed snuggled together for a while, listening to the storm outside. 

“Crowley? If we stay here much longer, you’re going to have to carry me to bed,” Aziraphale finally admitted. He hadn’t slept well the previous night and was having trouble keeping his eyes open, even though it wasn’t quite ten o’clock. It didn’t help that Crowley was warm and smelled like sandalwood, cinnamon and a little bit of dark chocolate. 

“And there’s bugger all on TV,” Crowley had had the set on, but with the sound down. He switched it off altogether. “Mind if I come in with you?”

“I wish you would.” Aziraphale didn’t have trouble falling asleep when Crowley had the bedside light on, but he had a lot of trouble falling asleep when he was in bed alone. Which was strange, because until just before this past Christmas, he’d always slept alone. His ex had never wanted more than a blow job and never slept in the same bed with him, and then he’d ended up living alone in a dismal little flat. At first solitude had been a blessing – nobody yelling at him, mocking him, ordering him around, _smacking_ him around – but there had been many times he’d cried himself to sleep on the dusty sofa, longing for something so badly that it hurt, but not knowing what it was. 

He knew what it had been now. 

This. Love. 

“Will I bother you if I read for a bit?” Crowley picked up his phone to take it in to charge, along with his tablet. 

“No, not at all.” Aziraphale turned around to kiss him. “I’ll be more awake tomorrow night, I promise.”

~*~

Half an hour later, Crowley gave up on Facebook and put the tablet aside, turning out the light and snuggling up with Aziraphale, who was already sound asleep. Outside, the wind howled around the building, splattering rain against the bedroom windows. Mehitibel, their cat, let out a little _ffft_ of annoyance and stood up to stretch, then curled back up again at the foot of the bed. Aziraphale woke up just enough to roll over and snuggle closer. 

It was, in Crowley’s opinion, perfect. 

He supposed everyone was going to think the proposal was premature, given that they’d only been a “couple” for just over two months. What most of them didn’t know was that he’d known Aziraphale for close to a year before their relationship had turned sexual. He’d long thought of the shy, angelic secretary as his best friend. 

And he couldn’t think of anything better than marrying his best friend. 

~*~

The problem with Friday lunches, Aziraphale had realized long ago, was that they were either majorly epic, to borrow Crowley’s phrase, or majorly anything but. Either you were trying to use up the remaining ingredients, or you were trying to piece something remotely edible out of what you had left. 

And sometimes, you were doing both.

He’d gone very much overboard making a smoked turkey and swiss club wrap for Crowley, severely miscalculating the amount of both turkey and swiss they had left and leaving himself wrapless. Worse, he’d also given Crowley the last Greek yogurt, thinking they had six regular yogurts in the fridge – only to discover that Crowley, for some inexplicable reason, had bought six small containers of sour cream during their last grocery outing.

And the little bit of leftover baby spinach he hadn’t put on that wrap really wasn’t going to pass as a salad, he realized, looking glumly into his lunchbag as his stomach reminded him of his earlier folly. As he did, though, Maddy Baker came back in from the direction of Eliza McCallister’s office. She had her long curly dark hair partly pinned up in a style similar to Crowley’s. 

“Zira? We’re ordering lunch from that new bento box place. You in?” She’d made a similar miscalculation that morning, realizing that the package of Thai turkey had exactly one piece of turkey left in it. She’d had tuna packets, but really didn’t want to do that to the rest of the office. Not after the incident with the office manager, a package of sardines – yes, sardines – and the microwave. 

“Uh – sure. Do we have a menu?” He looked relieved. “I _might_ not have realized that we didn’t have another packet of cold cuts when I made Crowley lunch this morning.”

“Since when does he have you making his lunch now?” She looked at him. Aziraphale’s ex had basically used him as an unpaid maid service. 

“He doesn’t. But he’s going to be stuck at the studio all day, so I thought I’d make him a wrap while I was making mine. Except I forgot the turkey was all we had left.” He looked sheepish. “I had to pad it with a few slices of that precooked bacon.”

“I certainly hope he appreciates you,” Holly Blakemore said, poking her head out of the conference room. 

“He does,” Aziraphale said. “He said he’d find something somewhere, but there aren’t any good lunch places near that particular studio, so…” He shrugged, trailing off in his usual fashion. His mini grand gesture had earned him a happily surprised hug and kiss – several kisses, really – and a promise of dinner out that, though appreciated, wasn’t really needed. Crowley made him feel loved and cherished in a way he literally never had before. “I don’t mind doing things for him. He actually appreciates it. Unlike some people.”

“Crowley’s a sweetheart,” Holly said, looking around as Vikki, the receptionist, came traipsing back in, walking strangely because she was both wearing a skirt too tight to walk in easily and trying not to lose a backless, spike-heeled shoe. 

“Vikki, we’re ordering from that new bento box place. You want to join us?” Holly said. 

“Like, okay, sure?” Aziraphale, who had finally decided on what he wanted, gave her the delivery menu and gave Maddy a tenner for lunch and the tip. He felt bad for Vikki. She had made the same mistake he had of falling for Gabriel Messenger, but, unlike him, had escaped with only her dignity injured.

~*~

“Darn it, I thought we had ice – what’s this?” It was an hour or so later and lunch had just been delivered. They were in the breakroom, Maddy peering curiously at a bag in the freezer. 

“Vanilla and chocolate fellatio,” Vikki replied, trying – and failing – to emulate Aziraphale, who had perfected the art of eating spicy peanut noodles with chopsticks. 

“Wait, what?!” Holly, Maddy and Aziraphale all said, more or less in unison. 

“That fancy Italian ice cream stuff. You know, fellatio.”

“ _Gelato_ , Vikki. Gelato,” Aziraphale said gently, somehow keeping a straight face. 

“Oh. My boyfriend said it was fellatio.”

“That’s something _completely_ different,” Maddy said, than looked at Holly and Aziraphale. “My ex – Darren – did that, too. Ordered plain vanilla fellatio in a restaurant once, then got quite offended when the server had _no_ clue what he actually meant and got – kind of offended.”

“I don’t even want to know what that would entail,” Holly said. “And this was a good idea. I didn’t have to break out my emergency stash of Pot Noodles.”

“I know that’s what they’re called, but that always suggests ingredients other than semolina flour,” Maddy said. “More like Semolina Pilchard climbing up the Eiffel Tower.”

Aziraphale didn’t get it, but didn’t say as much. 

“Since when do you have a new boyfriend?” Maddy said to Vikki.

“About a month ago.” Vikki looked down at her bento box. “Zira? How do you do that thing with the chopsticks?”

“Like this.” He showed her how to hold them. “Crowley had to teach me the first time we went for sushi.”

“Crowley’s nice,” she said. “You’re so lucky.” Her tone was bubbly, but there was a quick wistfulness in her eyes that Maddy and Holly missed, but Aziraphale picked up on right away. 

“Is everything all right?” he said. His voice was gentle, but Maddy and Holly looked up sharply, suddenly worried. 

Vikki nodded. 

“Vikki, if it’s not, you’ve got our numbers, right?” Holly said. 

“It’s fine, really,” Vikki said unconvincingly. 

“If it’s not, let someone know. Call one of us,” Aziraphale said. 

“It’s…” The phone rang and Vikki ran to grab it. 

Aziraphale looked at the others. “Something’s not right. She’s in trouble.”

Maddy and Holly nodded. 

~*~

Crowley had arrived at the office about four. He’d gotten out of the studio earlier than expected and wanted to spare Aziraphale a walk home. Actually, he just wanted to see his angel. 

He’d realized from the start that he’d have to be very patient with poor Aziraphale. He was so lost and lonely and scared when they first met that he never really smiled, much less laughed, longing for someone to love him – or at least want him around – but unable to believe that anyone could. He’d slowly started coming out of his own darkness, but still genuinely believed he’d deserved the abuse he suffered. He couldn’t see that he was everything he thought he wasn’t – brave, funny, fiercely intelligent, sometimes a little bit prim and fussy, very sweet and snuggly and yes, very good in bed. 

Needless to say, Crowley adored him. 

Aziraphale didn’t see him come in at first. He had a pile of files on the corner of his desk, ducking around the cabinet to grab one, then back around to read the tabs that were all inconveniently ending up on the other side. Crowley watched, enchanted by his angel’s version of the gavotte. 

The phone rang and, with Vikki nowhere in sight, Holly hit the speaker button to answer. “Hello, Beach, Lockwood and McCalli---” She was interrupted by a very loud and truly epic belch on the other end. The caller then hung up. 

“Not again?” Aziraphale looked around the cabinet. 

“What do you mean “again?” Holly was looking at the phone rather strangely. 

“That happened earlier. And to Maddy yesterday. And Lyra downstairs said it happened to her, too.”

“Great.” Holly made a face. “I’ve heard of panting into the phone, but belching?”

“I – Crowley!” Aziraphale put the file he was holding down to run into his boyfriend’s arms for a kiss. Holly smiled. It really was nice seeing Aziraphale actually happy. He was still painfully shy and the quietest of the four admins, but he didn’t seem so lost and afraid anymore. 

“Angel…” Crowley hugged him tight. “Is Jim around? Or Eliza?”

“Right here.” Eliza poked her head out of the break room. “What’s up?”

“We’re having a heck of a time trying to get a copy of Zira’s birth certificate,” Crowley said. “The GRO site keeps saying he doesn’t exist.”

“That – wouldn’t be the first time. Let me see what I can do. I know a few tricks. Shoot me an email with all the info, okay?” She smiled. 

“I’d really appreciate it. I don’t know what else to do,” Aziraphale said. 

“Not a problem. Do you need it right away?”

“Well, soon-ish. I don’t know how long getting a passport takes,” Crowley said. 

“He wants to take me to meet the rest of his family,” Aziraphale said, looking shy. The thought had entered his head that maybe Crowley wanted the rest of the family to vet him for marriage – except that wasn’t going to happen. He really didn’t think Crowley would want to get married – especially not to someone like him. He was still having trouble convincing himself that someone as amazing and perfect and – gorgeous – as Crowley would ever want anything to do with someone as – nothing – as he was. Too many years of being told he was worthless had left scars that ran very, very deep. 

It had also given him the instincts that made him do a double take as Vikki peered nervously at her phone.

Something wasn’t right. He didn’t want to see anyone else go through what he had. 

~*~

“Hey, Crowley? Why did you buy all these little containers of sour cream?” It was later that evening, after dinner, and Aziraphale was putting the leftovers in the fridge. 

“That’s yogurt.” Crowley looked around from watering plants. “Taco yogurt.”

“Very funny.” Aziraphale tried, and failed, to give him a dirty look. “Seriously, why didn’t you just get one big container?”

“Because it’s – wait…” Crowley came over and took the container out of Aziraphale’s hand. “What? It _is_ sour cream. What the hey?”

“What did you _think_ it was?” Aziraphale looked at him, wide-eyed.

“Taco yogurt. You know, like – yogurt – but with taco on the bottom instead of…fruit…?” The small containers were identical to Tesco’s own brand of yogurt containers, except they featured a small stylized taco instead of the appropriate fruit. “Uh…so…I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” 

Aziraphale stared at him wide-eyed for a moment, then dissolved into his wheezy squeak of a laugh. “Crowley!” 

Crowley looked at the container. “I’m not sure if I’m more disappointed in my own stupidity or that it isn’t taco yogurt,” he said.

“I’ll make tacos for you tomorrow night.” Aziraphale kissed him. 

“Better yet, we’ll go to that new Mexican place tomorrow night. How’s that?” Crowley returned the kiss. “We haven’t had a real date night in a while. Plus I owe you for that wrap.” 

“No you don’t.” Aziraphale stretched up to kiss him. “And Crowley?”

“What, love?” Crowley looked up from the sour cream container, hearing something in his angel’s voice that made him nervous. 

“This is going to sound weird, but – I think Vikki’s in the same place I was. Before.”

It took Crowley a moment, then his eyes widened. “You think she’s in a bad relationship?”

Aziraphale nodded. “I – well, I made sure she has my mobile number. Just in case. I – hope you don’t mind…”

“Why would I mind?” Vikki wasn’t really part of their close-knit little group, but he didn’t bear her any ill will – and if Aziraphale suspected she was getting smacked around, she probably was. He was all too well acquainted with the signs. “She’s not back with Gabriel, is she?”

“I don’t think so. She’s with someone, but I don’t think it’s him.” 

Crowley set the sour cream container back in the fridge. “That is not good. And did I screw up that last Waitrose order and get all these packages of cream cheese?”

“I was going to make a cheesecake, but that – hasn’t happened yet,” Aziraphale admitted. “Maybe I’ll just make a red velvet cake and use it for icing.”

“Red velvet doesn’t have much flavor, love. It’s just sweet.” Crowley wrinkled his nose. He’d been distinctly underwhelmed the first time he’d tried one.

“I have an old, old recipe,” Aziraphale said, taking a small, spiral-bound cookbook off the rack. “Look what Maddy gave me for Christmas.”

“ _Hershey’s 1934 Cookbook_?” Crowley looked at it. 

Aziraphale opened it to a “Red Devil Cake” recipe. “She said this is actually what a red velvet cake is supposed to be.”

Crowley took the book. “Now this looks good.” He still sometimes felt guilty about Aziraphale doing so much of the cooking, but his angel really seemed to enjoy it. “And angel?”

“What?”

“You’re very sweet to be looking out for Vikki like that.” He kissed Aziraphale’s nose. “And if we need to help her out of a bad spot, I’m totally with you.” He knew that the three women at the office had been there for his angel when Gabriel turned on him altogether. It was the least they could do.


	2. The (Family) Ties That Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maddy Baker's cousin arrives in the UK, Aziraphale and Crowley have a nice quiet Leap Day and Aziraphale - gets a surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing with the mushrooms and Freddie's vulture line are actual things that happened. And I caught the twin plagues working in a school transportation office - but yeah, that was my Leap Week 2016.
> 
> And Maddy's cousin is annoying, I know. So does she. He's also based on two different people I've known over the years...
> 
> And "Southern Evening" is a wax warmer scent I particularly adore, but Crowley's take on it is more accurate.

The next morning, partway across town, Maddy Baker was sitting in the arrival area of Heathrow Airport waiting for her cousin Carlton’s plane to arrive. Brian hadn’t been able to get out of doing an interview, but Tianna had cheerfully volunteered to come along with Aziraphale and Crowley for additional moral support. Maddy was grateful. She was going to need all the help she could get. Carlton wasn’t a bad guy; he just didn’t need to be let out without adult supervision. Even at twenty-eight. 

She looked around as Tianna and Crowley returned. 

“Here we are,” he said, handing Maddy a soda cup. “I think they’re all Coke.”

“Thanks,” she said. “And thanks for offering to drive. I don’t even know where this place is.”

“The Clairemont? It’s not too far. Not within walking distance of your flat, though,” Crowley said. 

“God, I haven’t been here since we got back from Japan,” Tianna said. “That was unbelievable. I had no idea they liked us so much.” She looked at them. “Coming back was weirder, though. We got back to the flat and Freddie and Opal ran along upstairs and left me to try to pry the mail the post office was supposed to have held but didn’t out of our box. Just as I got to the head of the stairs, Freddie lets out this God-awful scream. I dropped everything and ran down the hall, thinking he’d just been shot or something, and there he is in the doorway to the flat, wide-eyed and shaking, just absolutely white with terror, with Opal on the floor at his feet laughing her head off. He looks at me in total horror, points at the wall and quavers, “D-darling, what are those---things?” She did a wonderful impression of him as she spoke. 

“What was it?” Aziraphale said, glancing at Maddy, then taking a sip of his soda.

“You know those funny-looking mushrooms that grow down trees?” she said. “We had a nice neat row of them growing down the wall.” 

Maddy laughed and Aziraphale burst out laughing so unexpectedly that he snorted soda out of his nose. 

“Oops, sorry,” Tianna said. 

“You’re really good at doing that to people,” Maddy said to Tianna, handing Aziraphale several napkins. 

“It’s sort of the acid test of whether or not she’s really your friend,” Aziraphale said with a combination laugh and sniffle, wiping his nose, then looking at Tianna. “Mushrooms?”

“Freaking tree mushrooms,” she said. “Actually, I was with Opal. I thought it was hysterical. Freddie was just about crying, though.” She shook her head. “By the way, those things are damn near impossible to get off of a wall. And you can’t even eat them. I mean, if they’d been edible I wouldn’t have minded half so much.” She was thinking portobello or shiitake, not mescaline. Tianna was a very talented cook. 

Before anyone could respond, a voice yelled “Mads! Hey, Mads!”

Maddy rolled her eyes. “I hate it when he calls me that.” 

Heading their way was a chunky young man with reddish-blond hair and a small matching mustache doing its best to hide under his nose. He was wearing a t-shirt that said “100% BEEF” and a pair of tan “painter’s pants” that looked like they had been new several years and sizes ago. He was lugging a suitcase and a guitar case. 

“Mads, you look totally swinging!” he exclaimed, dropping his burdens to give his cousin an expansive hug. “Look, I even brought my guitar so I can get down and jelly with your swinging rock star boyfriend!”

“So you can what?” She looked at him.

“Jelly. Get down and jelly. You know, rock out!” He jumped around playing bad air guitar. 

“It’s _jam,_ Carlton,” Maddy pointed out gently. Crowley was doing his absolute best not to laugh, while Aziraphale just looked bewildered. Tianna, fearing her attempts at holding it in might result in a miscarriage, had ducked over to the insurance machine. She came back over a moment later, having composed herself somewhat. 

“Carlton---” Maddy tried. He was still bouncing around playing his invisible guitar.

“Rock on!” He skidded to one knee in front of her, strumming wildly. “Yeah, baby! Who’s the swinging dudemeister?! Carl-ton! Carl-ton! Carl-ton!”

Maddy finally resorted to swatting him backhand on the side of the head, the only way she’d ever been able to get his attention as a kid. “Carlton!”

“Yes, Mads?” He looked at her.

She sighed. “Carlton, I’m trying to introduce you.”

“Oh.” He got to his feet.

Maddy looked at her friends apologetically. “Guys, this is my cousin Carlton Norman. Carlton, these are my friends Tianna Bulsara, Zira Shepard and Crowley Deveraux-Gordon.” It occurred to her too late that she probably shouldn’t have introduced Crowley by his last name. 

Carlton didn’t recognize it anyway. “Swinging, dudes!” he said, shaking hands, then winking at Tianna. “Whoa, you look swingalicious, dollybird!”

“For a pregnant woman,” Tianna said, gesturing with her left hand so no-one could miss seeing her ring. 

“Oh.” Carlton’s face fell. “Well, like, where’s this hotel? The travel agent promised me it was the swingingest pad in Swinging London-Town!”

Crowley looked at Maddy. “I feel bad for you.” 

She laughed. “Oh, I’m used to this. Carlton, come on.” He’d been distracted by a passing “dollybird.” She looked around. “Carlton? Carlton? CARLTON!”

“Oh-KAY!” He followed, lugging his luggage. “Geez, you don’t have to shout.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, wide-eyed. “She should really consider having a DNA test to see if he’s actually her cousin.”

~*~

“We should go over to Westfield at some point. I haven’t been there in ages,” Crowley was saying. “I think we both need some new clothes.” It was early that afternoon and they were in a small café, having a cozy Saturday lunch. “That’s where you used to work, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale nodded. He’d been working as a barista in Black Sheep Coffee when Gabriel had met him, picked him up, smacked him around and turned him into even more of a mess than he had been already.

“We’ll make a day of it, angel. We could both use some new clothes.” Crowley reached across the table to squeeze Aziraphale’s hand. “You okay, love? You seem quiet.”

“I’m fine.” He smiled. “Just thinking is all.”

“About what, love?” Crowley leaned his chin on one hand, still holding Aziraphale’s with the other. “Or is it private?”

“You know I don’t have any secrets from you.” Aziraphale leaned across the table to kiss him softly on the mouth, just the lightest peck. “I was just wondering if we should get takeaw – Crowley, look!” 

“What?!” Crowley turned to look out the window, following Aziraphale’s gaze. “Is that Gabriel?” His eyes widened. “Who’s he with?” Aziraphale’s ex was accompanied by a stocky, balding man with a smarmy, smug smile. Crowley was pretty sure he recognized him from somewhere, and very sure that he didn’t like him. 

“Sandalphon.” Aziraphale’s eyes were very wide and he slid down a bit in his seat. “Please don’t let them come in here…”

“Sandalphon…as in your cockwomble brother?” Crowley’s eyes went wide. 

Aziraphale nodded, looking rather scared. 

Sandalphon wasn’t coming in. Crowley and Aziraphale watched them get into a limo and head off. 

“Oh God…” Aziraphale put his hands over his face with a shudder. “He was the worst of the lot. He used to beat me up so badly.”

“Oh angel…” Crowley came around the other side of the booth to hug him. “I’m here now, my love. I’ll take care of you. Do you want to leave?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “I – I’m okay. I’m not going to let them ruin my life anymore.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m not going to hide. I have as much of a right to live my life as they do.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that fact, but it was a start. 

~*~

They had planned on going back out, but, three hours later, it was obvious that it wasn’t going to happen. Not with Aziraphale nearly insensate, conscious of nothing save for overwhelming, mind-altering ecstasy as Crowley thrust into him, making him whimper and cry out each time. He’d already climaxed twice, and was nearing his third as he felt his boyfriend’s hand close around his aching cock…

He climaxed with a sharp little cry, shuddering as Crowley gasped and cried out as well, releasing deep inside him. A moment later, he was wrapped in Crowley’s arms, trembling in the aftermath, their overheated, sweat-slicked bodies melting together…

It was – pretty much perfect. 

They lay together for a little while, content to simply be in each other’s arms. 

“Oh angel…” Crowley finally murmured, curling closer. They needed to get cleaned up at some point, but he really didn’t have the strength to move at the moment. Nor the desire. 

“I love you,” Aziraphale murmured in reply. 

“Love you, angel.” Crowley hugged him tighter. “Ngk. My beautiful, plump, sexy angel.”

“Uh...?” Aziraphale looked up. 

“Has it occurred to you that I adore every plump, round inch of you?” Crowley kissed him softly, letting his hands slide down his angel’s back to linger on the delicious soft curve of his rump. “I used to dream about having those gorgeous thick thighs of yours wrapped around me while we were making love. I wanted to lie with my head on your belly while we watched TV. You literally have no idea how fucking sexy you are. And this – oh fuck, don’t even get me started or we won’t make it out of bed for a week…” He squeezed Aziraphale’s rump and kissed him, hard. “Seriously, I know you’re self-conscious about it, but I think you’re perfect.”

Aziraphale blushed. “You’re the one who’s perfect.”

“Me? Nah. I’m all bones and angles.” That wasn’t precisely true. Crowley was slim, but not scrawny and, as the skinny jeans he favored proved, he had a very nice backside. 

“No, you’re perfect.” Aziraphale started to add _I’m the one who’s ugly_ , but didn’t. _He doesn’t care that I’m a fat cow. He – actually likes it?_

“Come on, angel. Let’s get cleaned up a bit.” Crowley had some ideas about what he wanted to do to Aziraphale in the shower.

~*~

“I want to get one of those rain showers.” Crowley looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully. They had gotten cleaned up quickly, but Aziraphale had wanted a nice long soak in the tub instead. It worked for Crowley, especially since he’d had some bath bombs he’d been wanting to try out. He was lying back with his feet up on either side of the tub with Aziraphale nestled against him, head tucked against his shoulder, amid an ocean’s worth of bubbles and deep purplish-blue “Midsummer Southern Evening” scented water. Although the slightly musky, deeply floral scent was intoxicating, Crowley thought the name was quite the misnomer. It really should have smelled like pool chemicals, sweat, cheap beer and mosquito repellent, with a dash of whatever roadkill du jour their neighbor was attempting to barbecue thrown in for good measure. 

“That would be nice,” Aziraphale agreed, although he honestly wasn’t sure what Crowley was talking about. 

Crowley shifted position to sit up a bit more, wrapping his legs around Aziraphale and hugging him tighter. 

“I didn’t mess up your plans, did I?” Aziraphale looked at him. “I mean, if you still wanted to go somewhere…?”

“We still can. It’s not that late. But right now, no. I’m exactly were I want to be.” Crowley kissed his angel’s nose, then ran his fingers through Aziraphale’s wet hair. He’d let it grow out a bit and it was now a soft mop of pale curls that curled around his ears and framed his face even more sweetly than before. One in particular fell in a soft swoop almost over his left eye. 

“I wonder what my brother was doing with Gabriel?” Aziraphale said after a few minutes. 

“Probably the same thing we are. Were,” Crowley amended.

“I – didn’t need that image in my head,” Aziraphale said. 

“Ew. Now that I think about it…” Crowley made a face. “But do you think they’re together?”

“My father’s head would really explode.” Aziraphale’s eyes were very wide. “Maybe literally. Sandalphon’s his favorite.”

“What’s he like?”

“Sandalphon? He’s horrid. He’s sadistic. I really think he used to beat me because it turned him on. I know I shouldn’t say that, but I think it did. The other four were all mean to me, but they didn’t seem to – enjoy – it quite as much as he did.” Aziraphale shuddered and burrowed into the safety of Crowley’s arms. 

“Why am I not surprised? I’ve seen their lot far too much in America.” Crowley hugged him. “They hide behind religion and use it as a weapon against anything they don’t want to be arsed to understand. No compassion, no empathy – none of this sissy “love thy neighbor” stuff.”

Aziraphale kissed him. “I know. I chose not to be like that. I decided early on that I’d make myself the opposite of what they are.” He smiled. 

Crowley kissed his nose. “Shacked up with a wannabe rock star, friends with a witch—” Maddy Baker was a Wiccan. “This is a far better way to spend leap day than the last time, by the way.”

“What happened last time?” Aziraphale looked up at him. 

“Well, I was still at uni and there were two things going around at the time – the “cough thing,” which was a miserable cold, and the “stomach thing,” which was a norovirus outbreak. I came down with the cough thing and was sick in bed all that day. That was Monday. I was a little better Tuesday, then Wednesday night – I came down with the stomach thing. Hard.” Crowley cringed. “Ended up curled up in a ball on the floor of the loo at two in the morning, shivering and hoping like hell I wasn’t about to throw up again, because if I did, I’d have to sit up to reach the toilet and if I sat up, I knew I was going to pass out. Everything was already hazy and full of sparkles and the room was spinning even though I was lying down. It’s a bloody good thing I had a roommate who was actually a decent bloke. He found me, fetched me a blanket and stayed with me while his girlfriend called Student Health Services and got something for the nausea and – all. I was trying to stay away from them and not get them sick, but man, was I ever glad they were there.” He kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head. “Newt never came down with it and Anathema had had it and recovered, as it turned out…”

“Wait! Newt and Anathema?!” Aziraphale got up on an elbow to look at him. 

“Yeah. I think they were from up around your neck of the woods, as the saying goes. Tadfield.” Crowley looked at him. “You know them?”

“What did they look like?”

“Newt had glasses – he looked kind of nerdy, I guess. He was kind of awkward, but really nice. Really smart bloke. Anathema was like you – really smart and always reading. I used to call her Book Girl. She drove this really old Mini kind of like the one you used to have. Newt had this blue something-or-other he’d named Dick Turpin…”

“Oh my God…” Aziraphale caught his boyfriend’s hand, squeezing it. “Crowley! Newt’s the one who saved my life! He got me out of that – camp.”

“That torture therapy place?” Crowley’s eyes went wide.

Aziraphale nodded. “He was working for the linen service and he used to smuggle people out – anyone over sixteen. He got me out of there, but I had no place to escape to. I didn’t have any friends or anything, and I was afraid someone would see me if I tried to take a train somewhere. I knew my father would probably have come after me at that time. Anathema sold me her old Mini for like fifty pounds and – that was how I got away. I had to stay with them for a week or two until everything got settled. They would have let me stay permanently, but I couldn’t risk staying in Tadfield.”

Crowley’s eyes were huge. “Fuck. Wait until I tell him that.” He kissed Aziraphale softly. _I know who’s getting invited to our wedding._

~*~

“Freddie, you’re going to blow your vocal cords out. Change the key or something,” Tianna was saying worriedly. He was playing something he’d just written in an absolutely atrocious key. Tianna was leaning on the lid of the piano.

“Darling, it won’t sound right,” he fretted, fussing with his long dark locks as he leaned over to peer at his handwritten notes. “Don’t fret about me. I can take it. I’ll sing until my throat is like a vulture’s crotch if I have to.”

Opal looked around from the Sunday comics. “Eeew. Gross, Freddie. Really gross.”

Tianna made a face. “I know. Thanks for putting that image in my head, Farroukh.”

“Sorry, darlings.” He looked contrite. “So when are we meeting Maddy and her cousin?”

“Noon. I warn you, though, he’s kind of peculiar,” Tianna replied. “Oh, by the way, did you hear the latest tabloid rumor?”

“What, love?” He looked around.

She rolled her eyes. “The Mirror is claiming that I have “Property of Freddie Mercury” tattooed on my butt.” Tianna actually did have a tattoo - a delicate Florentine filigree twining around her left wrist, an homage to  
the late Janis Joplin. 

Freddie smiled wickedly. “I could always write my name on it, dear.”

“And I’m almost tempted, just to shut them up,” she sighed.

“Why would anyone do that?” Opal said.

“Just to play a joke on them, dear,” Freddie smiled.

“No, get a tattoo like that,” Opal replied. 

“I don’t know, mignon,” Tianna admitted. “Some women apparently think it’s really cool.” 

“I think it’s really weird,” Opal decided.

“So do I,” Tianna admitted. 

~*~

“Tianna doesn’t really have a tattoo on her bum, does she?”

“Nope. That’s just a stupid rumor they like to start every so often. Watch, they’ll be saying it about one of us before too long.” Crowley kissed his angel’s nose. They were meeting Maddy, Carlton and the Mercurys for brunch at the Clairmont in a couple of hours. They’d finally made it out of bed and were sitting at the breakfast nook table. Crowley was sipping coffee and Aziraphale was drinking tea and eating toast with marmalade while he read the news on his tablet. 

“I was thinking of getting a tattoo. It would be a black snake down my arm, though. Not anyone’s name,” Crowley said after a moment. 

“I should get one just to make my father’s head explode,” Aziraphale said. “Like maybe just a little halo and wings or something. Not on my bum, though. Or else get you to write something rude across my lower back and wear a really short shirt.”

“Oh geez, angel!” Crowley was glad he hadn’t had a mouthful of coffee when Aziraphale said that. “We both should, just to screw with them. Matching tramp stamps.”

Aziraphale giggled and Crowley felt himself melting, once again wondering how anyone could be that adorable. “Angel in the streets, demon in the sheets probably wouldn’t fit. Or might, given the size of my arse.”

Crowley leaned across the table to kiss him. “Silly angel. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Aziraphale looked away, then back. “I just hope I’m not too boring.”

“You’re anything but. What makes you think you’re boring?”

“Well, didn’t you always go out to clubs and stuff before we…?”

“Because Luc always wanted to. Freaking bantersaurus rex. Never wanted to just stay in and chill out,” Crowley said, looking into his coffee mug, then back at Aziraphale. “And it’s not like we don’t go out. We just don’t go out and get pissed out of our minds every weekend. I’m quite enjoying remembering what I did the night before.”

“Like me?” Aziraphale couldn’t resist. 

“And my plans for tonight are basically the same.” Crowley grinned. 

“I hope so.” Aziraphale looked shyly pleased. Being wanted this way – desired, cherished, adored – was a new thing for him, and he was really enjoying it. “But we should probably get going soon if we’re meeting the others.”

~*~

“Woah, Tianna Mercury has a tattoo? On her butt?!” Carlton was saying. “Woah, does she let people see it?!”

“She doesn’t have a tattoo on her butt,” Maddy said. “That’s a dumb rumor that they start about once a year. She just has the one on her wrist.” 

“Oh.” Carlton’s face fell. “Well, what about Freddie? Is he really the wild and crazy swinging dudemeister he’s supposed to be?” They were at the hotel restaurant, waiting for the Mercurys. It had already been the longest brunch of Maddy’s life, and it hadn’t even started yet. 

“Freddie’s nice,” she replied, “He’s a lot of fun to be around.”

“You think he’s gonna wear that white pantyhose thing today?” Carlton wasn’t going to be dissuaded. 

“He doesn’t dress that way offstage,” she said, doing her best to remain patient.

“Not that I would put it past him,” Crowley said unhelpfully, reaching over to twine his fingers through Aziraphale’s. “How are you holding up, angel?” 

“I’m fine.” Aziraphale gave him a sweet smile and Crowley, unable to resist, leaned over and stole a quick kiss. It occurred to him exactly one second too late that it might not have been the best idea, but Carlton wasn’t fazed. He just gave them a wink and thumbs-up. Aziraphale blushed slightly and Crowley squeezed his hand.

“Zira, you work with Mads here, right?” Carlton said.

“Stop calling me Mads. You know I hate that,” she grumbled. She didn’t mind Crowley shortening “Maddy” to “Mad,” but “Mads” bothered her for some inexplicable reason. 

Aziraphale nodded. “I’ll have been there two years in August.”

“You don’t see a lot of men secretaries in the States,” Carlton said. 

“I don’t think you see very many in the UK,” Aziraphale admitted. 

Maddy looked around as Brian came back from the men’s room. She was surprised that the starstruck Carlton hadn’t followed him. 

“Rock on, partymeister dude!” Carlton said, jumping up and playing air guitar to welcome Brian’s return. “We gotta get down and jam!” 

“Maybe later,” he said with a smile. “So anyway, what do you do back in the States?” 

“I rock on and party, swinging dudemeister!” Carlton replied. 

“He means for a living,” Crowley said, amused.

“Oh, that? Well, I’m the third shift wet bed kingpin at IBM.”

Brian, Crowley and Aziraphale all looked at Maddy, who smiled. “Acid etch. He works in the same place I used to. Part of his job is to put the boards through an acid bath to etch the lines out for the circuitry. They call it a wet bed.”

“Yeah, that. I’m the third shift party kingpin!” Carlton said. “Everyone comes to me to party, cause I am the Partyman!” He jumped up on his chair, beating his chest with his fists. “PAAAR-ARARARRRRR-ARRRATYYYYYY!!!!!”

“Carlton, sit down!” Maddy commanded, sounding like she was talking to a three-year-old. “Behave yourself! People are staring.” She pulled him back into his seat. 

“Sorry, Mads,” he replied. 

Maddy rolled her eyes, then, much to her relief, spied the Mercurys and waved to them. Tianna was looking elegant in a burnt orange crocheted sweater and a long sweeping dark-brown gypsy skirt and Freddie wore black trousers, a black and yellow striped sweater and a black jacket with gold polka dots and a furry collar. Somehow, on him, stripes and polka dots worked. 

“Darlings!” Freddie greeted them, kissing Maddy on the cheek. 

“Dudemeister!” Carlton exclaimed. “You’re not wearing your pantyhose thing!”

“Jeez Lou-freaking-weez….” Maddy said, literally facepalming. Freddie, however, was unfazed and fortunately, unoffended. 

“That’s a bit much for day, dear,” he said with a gracious smile. “I prefer to save the leotard for special occasions.” Ever the gentleman, he held out Tianna’s chair for her, then sat down between her and Aziraphale. 

“Yeah, during the day he prefers false advertising,” Tianna said, indicating his sweater, which had a “Cub Scout” logo on the black stripes. 

“Woah, you were a Cub Scout?! So was I?!” Carlton burst out.

“It’s just a logo, dears. I didn’t grow up in the States, remember?” Freddie said.

“My older brother Demetri was a Boy Scout for awhile,” Tianna said. “He never made it past Tenderfoot. My second-youngest brother made it all the way to Eagle, though.” She looked at the menu. “Mmmmm, that American Southwest Omelet looks good. Does it come with --- oooh, it does come with pancakes. Four of them.” She smiled wickedly. “I like this eating for two business.”

“Tigi, has it occurred to you that the baby is approximately the size of a golf ball?’ Brian said good-naturedly. There were, as yet, no outward signs of her pregnancy.

“Shhhh! You’ll blow my cover!” she mock-whispered.

“Why? You don’t want anyone to know you’re pregnant?” As loud as Carlton said it, everyone would have known anyway.

“It’s a private joke,” she said by way of explanation. “And no, I’m not trying to keep my pregnancy a secret. They’re going to figure it out sooner or later.” 

“Where’s the Southwest Omelet?” Brian said. Maddy pointed it out. She had settled on a cheese omelet with pancakes. Granted, it wasn’t the usual breakfast/brunch fare, but she figured Carlton would appreciate an American-style breakfast. 

“Oh,” he said. “It’s got ham in it. Never mind.”

The server came over to take their orders a few minutes later. Brian, as usual, had total decision confusion and wound up ordering what Maddy was having. Carlton ordered the Big & Hearty Breakfast. Freddie ordered the Parisian Omelet, partially distracted by a passing waiter who made a point of wearing his uniform rather fitted. His backside, however, failed miserably in comparison with Tianna’s. Sometimes he was more surprised than anyone that he’d wound up with a woman, but he’d never met anyone, male or female, who even remotely compared to Tianna. Crowley also opted for the Southwest Omelet, and Aziraphale followed suit. 

“Pass me the sugar, would you please?” she said, distracting him. 

He did. She nonchalantly emptied a good eight or nine packets into the teacup. 

“Want some tea for your sugar there?” Crowley offered her the pot. 

“Very funny.” She took it. “And why did that sound dirty?”

Their food arrived just as Tianna was starting on her second cup of tea. Carlton salted everything, then dug in with a growl. Maddy tasted her eggs before asking for the saltshaker. Tianna, meanwhile, spent a good couple of minutes peppering her omelet before she started eating. 

“Pass the syrup, please,” Maddy said.

Freddie looked at the small rack of carafes. “Blueberry, Vermont Maple, Boysenberry, Butter Pecan, Strawberry or Pineapple?” he said.

“Blueberry,” she said with a laugh.

“And it’s puh-KHAN, love, not PEE-can,” Tianna pointed out. 

“So are all the swinging dollybirds still hanging out on Carnaby Street in their vinyl minis?” Carlton interrupted. 

“For all I know,” Tianna said. “I never could figure out those vinyl minis. They seem kind of sticky to me.”

“Oh, I don’t know, darling. Your curves and vinyl seem made for each other,” Freddie **said. 

“Dear, the only outfits I can reasonably consider until further notice need to have elastic waistbands,” she pointed out. “Room for two.”

“Woah, woah, dollybird alert, dollybird alert!” Carlton sprang up, knocking his chair over. “Woah, hot hot hot! Me want honey!”

“Carlton---” Maddy started, but he was halfway across the room in pursuit of his quarry.

~*~

“Chase! For frack’s sake!” Maddy Baker was a little annoyed. “You set Zira’s desktop printer as the office default!”

“You said the HP.” Their new IT tech looked very confused. 

“The HP 205. Not the 7790. That’s not even supposed to be a shared device.” 

“I’m sorry…” Aziraphale didn’t know what else to say. He felt bad for causing trouble, however inadvertent.

“For what? You didn’t do anything. And don’t you dare say it’s okay and you don’t mind if everyone prints to it. Because it’s not,” Maddy scolded him gently. 

He stopped himself from saying just that. 

“Here.” Maddy unclicked the box designating Aziraphale’s printer as everyone’s printer, then reset the default on his to the HP 205. Chase had retreated to his office. “Hey guys? Everyone check what printer you’re printing to. I just had to make Zira’s not the office default.” The three secretaries and Vikki all split their printing between desktop printers for letterhead and small jobs and an HP Laserjet for large ones, while everyone else either printed to a desktop or to the Ricoh copier/printer/scanner/fax/faster and more efficient way of screwing everything up.

“Hey, Zira?” That was Eliza. “Got a second? Nothing you did, just a quick question.”

“What is it?” He followed her back to her office. 

“Love, is there any possibility that you might have originally been registered under another name?”

“For what?” He was confused. 

“Your birth certificate. I couldn’t find anything for Aziraphale Shepard. But I found this…” She beckoned him to come look at the computer screen. 

“I…” He was speechless. There hadn’t been a record for Aziraphale Shepard, but Eliza had dug deeper and found:

_Name: Aziraphale Zachariah Pratchett  
DOB: 7 March 1996  
Place: St. Beryl’s Birthing Hospital, Tadfield, UK  
Father: Unknown  
Mother: Rose Fawn Pratchett, DOB 21 April 1982… ___

__Aziraphale stared, wide-eyed. “That – that can’t be right. Can it?”_ _

__“Did they adopt you?” Eliza was as bewildered as Aziraphale was._ _

__He shook his head in confusion rather than negation. “I – I don’t – Eliza, Rose was my nanny…”_ _


	3. Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale's family ties come a bit more to light. 
> 
> Warning for mention of underage/non-con. Suffice it to say the Shepards are NOT the good Godly people they claim to be.
> 
> Also, some minor pet injuries - but everyone's going to be okay after a trip to the vet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mehitibel's misadventure is based on something that happened to one of my gerbils a few years ago. He insisted on climbing the cage bars to chew on a particularly tasty one (I presume, anyway) and got a toe caught. He was fine, but ended up with a sprained back leg and a new enclosure. And one less toe in the end.

“Zira? What is – oh, I’m sorry…” Maddy started in, then back out. 

“No, Maddy. Look!” Aziraphale looked around at her. “Look what Eliza found…”

“What – what is it?” She looked at the screen, bewildered.

“I think it’s his actual birth certificate,” Eliza said, equally wide-eyed. “Okay, wait. Zira? You said Rose Pratchett was your nanny?”

He nodded. “My father fired her when I was ten. I think I cried for months afterward. She was always nice to me. No one else told me they loved me – and you don’t want to hear this…”

Maddy, meanwhile, was doing math in her head. “Oh dear God, Zira. She was so _young_ when she had you!”

“But she…” Poor Aziraphale had done the mental equivalent of dividing by zero and his brain had crashed. 

“Hey, Zira, have you seen – Zira? Are you all right?” Jim had been looking for the spare pot for the coffeemaker when he realized something was afoot. 

“Well, I think we found his birth certificate…” Eliza started.

“And opened up a whole case of worms in the process,” Maddy finished. 

“What do you – oh.” Jim came around to look at the screen, wide-eyed. “Oh shit, isn’t that…?”

Maddy nodded. “The woman he thought was his nanny.”

“More like girl.” Jim said, frowning at the screen. 

Aziraphale looked from one to the other, stunned, not knowing what to say. The odds of there being another Aziraphale – never mind one with the same birthday and place of birth as his – were pretty   
astronomical, to say the least. Even his middle name wasn’t all that common, albeit more so than his first. 

But – that couldn’t be right, could it? Rose hadn’t been his mother…

Had she?

~*~

Crowley, meanwhile, was not having a good day. Neither was Mehitibel. He’d come home from a trip to Tesco around noon to find her with her back leg caught in one of the cabinet handles, hanging with her front paws barely touching the ground. He’d freed her, but she couldn’t – or wouldn’t - use her leg, so he’d rushed her to the vet, convinced her leg was either broken or dislocated or otherwise permanently damaged, entirely through fault of his own.

“It’s going to be okay, baby girl. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it better. You’re going to be fine…” Crowley was the one who wasn’t fine by then. He was almost in tears. Mehitibel was back to using the leg, although she was favoring it, and currently regarding him through the carrier door in something between bewilderment and annoyance. 

“We may be the cause of the holdup,” a young blonde woman said apologetically. “My aunt’s dog fought the vacuum and the vacuum won.”

“Is he all right?” Crowley looked around. 

“I think he’s going to need stitches,” she said. She was on the plump side and very sweet-looking, with long curly pale-blonde hair and huge, expressive blue eyes. She immediately reminded him of Aziraphale. “What happened to your girl?”

“I guess she was on the counter and tried to jump down and got her leg caught on the handle. I thought it was broken, but she’s moving it now…” He looked in.

“Pretty girl.” The young woman looked into the carrier and Mehitibel mewed politely in greeting. “She may have just sprained it.” She looked at him. “Where have I seen you before?”

“I’m not sure. One of the shops?” It was a wild guess. She reminded him so much of Aziraphale…

“Maybe. My Aunt Tracy has a shop over in Soho. Madame Tracy’s.” She looked a little sheepish. 

“I don’t think so. But you remind me so much of someone…”

“Who?”

“Don’t laugh. My boyfriend.”

“I – hope that’s good.”

“He’s the sweetest thing. He works over at Beach, Lockwood and McCallister…” 

“Crowley? We’re ready for Mehitibel now.”

“I’ll bring him by your shop sometime. You’ll see.” Crowley said with a smile. 

“I wish you would…” She trailed off in the same uncertain manner Aziraphale did. 

“You got it,” he said, following the vet tech. As he did, an older woman came out with a carrier, also accompanied by a vet tech. She had curly red hair close to the same shade as Crowley’s and wore a colorful coat over an equally bright caftan. 

“Ready to hit the road, Rose dear?” she said. “Rose? Is everything all right?”

“She called him Crowley…” Rose Pratchett said, realizing. “She – Aunt Tracy, that was Crowley Deveraux-Gordon I was just talking to!”

“As in our dear Zira’s boyfriend?” Tracy looked in the direction Crowley had gone as well. 

Rose nodded. “Beach, Lockwood and McCallister. Help me remember that.”

“Why?”

“If I’m right and that was him – it’s where Zira works.”

“Oh dear, I hope you’re right.” Tracy smiled. “I do so want to finally meet him. He must be such a dear.”

~*~

It wasn’t until Mehitibel had been taken for an x-ray that it dawned on Crowley. _That woman called her Rose? Oh dear Lord, that was Rose Pratchett!_

He quickly texted Aziraphale. _Madame Tracy’s. Help me remember that, angel_

He received a question mark in reply, which might have been annoying coming from someone else. But not when he could imagine Aziraphale’s adorable, bewildered expression when he sent it.

_Because I think it’s where your mum works. Tracy’s her aunt._

That did it. His phone chimed. 

“Crowley? What are you talking about?” Aziraphale’s voice was shaky.

“Angel, it’s a long story, but I’m at the vet’s, Mehitibel may have dislocated something in her leg and I think I just met your mother.”

“My parents never come to London. And what happened to Mehitibel?!” _Unless he means – no, how could he know?_

“Rose, angel. I think I just met Rose. And the shop is her aunt’s. It’s in Soho.”

“Why – why are you saying she’s my mother – she was my – how did you – Crowley! What’s going on?! Is Mehitibel okay?!” Aziraphale sounded annoyed, but he was so confused that he was close to a panic attack.

“She got her leg caught in the cabinet handle. I think it’s okay. She’s sort of using it again. But I ran into a woman at the vet’s office and I’m sure she’s Rose. We need to find her aunt’s shop in Soho. It’s called Madame Tracy’s. Oh my God, angel, she was you. Only female. But she’s the most adorable femme version of you ever. She’s got to be your mum.”

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice was shaky. “Eliza th-thinks she found my birth certificate…”

“And…”

“You m-might be right…”

Crowley started to say _Why didn’t you tell me that before?!_ , but realized he really hadn’t let Aziraphale get a word in edgewise. 

“I’ll be by the office as soon as I get out of here,” he said instead. “Love you, angel.”

“Love you…” Aziraphale hung up and sank down in his chair. 

“You okay?” Jim looked just as pale and shaken as his secretary. 

“I – I don’t know…” He looked at Jim. “You’re not going to fire me, are you?”

“For what?”

“I didn’t know I w-was lying about my identity…”

“You weren’t. You were the one who was lied to, apparently.” Jim wondered what the statute of limitations on child abduction cases was. He was a little rusty on criminal law. “Zira, don’t worry. We’ll help you get to the bottom of this.”

~*~

Crowley showed up about forty-five minutes later, bearing the cat carrier and the old Bible case with the photos tucked in it. 

“She’s fine. She just sprained it. But I need new handles for that cabinet,” Crowley said. Mehitibel had been given Metcam and reminded by the vet to stay off of the counters. She was sulking in her carrier, occasionally mewing in protest at being imprisoned. “But guys, look at this. Zira had a few old pictures of Rose. She’s totally the woman I was talking to at the vet’s.”

They looked. 

“Yup,” Ned concluded after a moment. “She’s your mum, Zira. No doubt at all.”

“Who’s the baby she’s holding?” Jim said. 

“Rebekah, I think. It may be Keziah. They’re my sisters…” He trailed off, then looked at them, wide-eyed. “I – just – realized something…”

“What?” Crowley said.

“I don’t ever remember seeing my mother – well, the woman I thought was her – pregnant…” He looked away, then back. “Wouldn’t she have shown, being as thin as she is?”

“How many younger siblings do you have?” Jim said. 

“Seven after me. The two girls and five more boys. My father wanted boys. He wanted a lot of sons. But I – I never saw her pregnant, I don’t think. Like ever.” That had actually never occurred to him before this moment. 

“Were there other nannies?” Maddy said.

“There were always other girls around. My father – well, he has this sort of reform school for wayward girls, as he put it, that he runs. It was mostly girls from his congregation who came to have babies or – something…” The look in Aziraphale’s eyes was part bewilderment and part dawning horror. “He said he was training them to be vessels. Vessels for the Lord…”

“Vessels for his dick, more like it,” Ned snorted. “That is some seriously fucked-up shit right there.”

Aziraphale looked down. “Y-you all must be wishing you’d never met m-me right now…” His voice broke. 

“My poor angel…” Crowley hugged him tight. “I love you so much. My poor baby.” He didn’t know what else to say. 

“I – I don’t know what to do…” Aziraphale sniffled after a few moments. He was in shock, to put it mildly. 

Crowley kissed the top of his head, nuzzling into his hair. “I love you, angel.” He looked up at Maddy. “Hey Mad, would you do me a ginormous favor?”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Look up a shop called Madame Tracy’s in Soho. Rose’s aunt owns it. Please?”

“Sure.” It only took Google a moment. “Here it is. Near the corner of Brewer Street and Rupert Street. Next to that antiquarian bookshop.”

Crowley looked over her shoulder, still holding the distraught Aziraphale. “Got it. Jim, would it be possible for me to…”

“Of course,” Jim said. “You two go find out if that’s really her. We’ll request a copy of Zira’s birth certificate.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I caused so much trouble,” Aziraphale sniffled, putting his hands over his face. “I’m sorry.”

“Zira, listen to me.” Jim took him by the shoulders. “If what you told us is what it sounds like, those people hurt you and Rose and who knows how many other girls. They need to face the consequences of their actions. And if Rose really is your mother, then you need to find her.”

“Exactly,” Maddy said. 

“Come on, angel. I think Miss Priss should be okay for a little while by herself. She was walking fine by the time we left the vet’s.”

~*~

Back at the flat, Crowley let Mehitibel out. She immediately stalked to her bed, walking normally. He was sure she’d have a limp when the Metcam wore off, though. 

“Angel, shall we—” he started to say, but was interrupted by a soft, broken sob. Poor Aziraphale had sunk down on the sofa with his hands over his face.

“Angel?!” Crowley hurried over. “What is it?”

“I – I can’t - I – what if she doesn’t want to see me?!” He couldn’t imagine any scenario where she’d actually want to and it was tearing him apart inside. Just the thought made him break down sobbing too hard to even speak. 

“Shh, angel, angel…” Crowley rubbed his back. “Breathe, baby. It’s okay.”

“S-she isn’t going to w-want to see me…” Aziraphale finally managed to sob. 

“Angel, listen to me. She _does_. Sweetheart, come on. Look at me. Eye contact. Let me see those beautiful blues.” Crowley’s voice was gentle, but firm. 

Aziraphale finally looked up. “Don’t. I – I – can’t take it if…”

“Angel, I already told her I was bringing you by. I told her she reminded me of you. Well, I said “my boyfriend,” but you get the idea. She wanted me to.” He kissed Aziraphale softly. “I wouldn’t do this to you if I wasn’t sure that she wanted to see you.”

Aziraphale hesitated, then nodded. “Okay.” _But if you’re wrong, this is going to be the end of me._

~*~

An hour and a half later they found themselves standing in front of Madame Tracy’s. It appeared to be a pleasantly discreet sex shop, although a sign in the window also advertised tarot readings and psychic consultations. 

“Ready, angel?” Crowley said, squeezing his hand. 

Aziraphale nodded, although he was more or less the opposite of ready. Crowley opened the door to a pleasant jangle of windchimes. 

No one was up front, but a sad-looking Yorkie mix came out from the back, a little unsteady thanks to a stitched-up front paw, a cone of shame almost as big as he was and presumably the aftereffects of anesthesia. He wobbled over to them and gave them his best attempt at a wag.

“Yeah, looks like that vacuum cleaner won that round, little guy.” Crowley picked him up. “Poor little bugger. Where’s your mum?” He had a tag on his collar identifying him as Shadow.

“Puppy, come back here, please. Don’t bother the customers. Please don’t mind him. He fought the vacuum this morning and the vacuum won.” It was a woman’s voice. 

“We…” Aziraphale turned around – and froze. 

“Angel?” Crowley looked around – and started visibly. It was indeed the young woman from the vet’s office and _Oh dear Lord_ she was indeed the same young woman in Aziraphale’s photo. 

“Zira?!” Rose Pratchett exclaimed, her wide-eyed, shocked expression very much like Aziraphale’s. “Zira, is – is it - Zira!”

“Rose…?” Aziraphale was in shock. He had not expected Crowley to be right. “Y-you – you remember me?”

“Oh baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Those people – they took you away from me…” Rose put her hands over her face, then looked through her fingers in a manner very similar to Aziraphale’s. “Baby, I’m so sorry…”

“No, it’s…” He ran to few steps to her and hugged her, tight. “I can’t believe I found you…”

Crowley and Shadow looked at one another, then at Rose and Aziraphale, then back at each other. A moment later, the older, redhaired woman came in. 

“Oh my goodness!” she exclaimed with a huge smile. “You found us first!”

“We saw you on Agnes N’s blog,” Rose said, pushing Aziraphale back just enough to look at him. “They had some pictures from that New Year’s party. I wanted to get in touch with you, but – I didn’t know how.” She shook her head. 

“You _are_ his nanny Rose!” Crowley finally found his voice. “Zira’s told me all about you!”

“Actually…” Tracy went around Crowley to lock the door and flip the sign to CLOSED. “It’s more than that, dears.” She looked from one to the other. “By the way, I’m Rose’s Aunt Tracy. And dears…” she paused, then said. “Rose wasn’t just his nanny. She’s his mother.”

“I knew it!” Crowley exclaimed. “Angel, she looks just like you! I knew it the moment you showed me that picture!”

“Picture?” Rose said.

“Yeah. When you got that little disposable camera – wait…” It had taken a moment for Tracy’s words to really register. “You…you’re really my…mother…?”

She nodded. “I -I had you a month before I turned fourteen. Your father – well, he was my boyfriend. I don’t know what happened to him. I was sent away to have you and – well, I never saw him again. My parents didn’t want to deal with it. They sent me to what was advertised as a home for wayward girls to have you. Except Shepard kept me as…”

“The nanny?” Aziraphale said. 

She shook her head. “His vessel.”

“Vessel?” Crowley didn’t like the sound of that. 

Rose nodded. “Shepard’s wife couldn’t have any more children after the youngest was born. He – wanted more sons. I – only had girls. He got rid of me ten years later and wouldn’t let me take Zira. It was how he kept me quiet.” She looked down. “Zira, I’m sorry. I left you to those – people. I don’t know how you can ever forgive me.”

“No, he’s…” Aziraphale was hearing something very different in Rose’s words. He looked from her to Tracy and back again. “D-do you really still love me?”

Rose nodded. “I’m so sorry…I love you so much. I – I didn’t know what to do…I…”

“I…oh God…I really h-have a mother w-who – who - wants me…?” Aziraphale said shakily.

Rose nodded, finally meeting his gaze again. 

“Oh my God…” Aziraphale crumpled into her arms with a sob. 

“Please tell me you’re not going to run out of here,” Tracy said to Crowley. 

“I’m not going anywhere. He may be her baby, but he’s also my angel,” Crowley said. “And I’m Crowley, by the way. His boyfriend.” He smiled. “And I have no idea why we ended up here, but…” He shook his head, then tried to discreetly wipe his eyes under his sunglasses. 

“It’s ineffable, dear,” Tracy said. “But we’re glad you did.”


	4. Tuesday I Go Off To - Work, I Guess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we flashback to Crowley and Aziraphale's first meeting, Crowley asks permission from Rose to ask for Aziraphale's hand in marriage - and then gets hit on at lunch. 
> 
> Lucky for him, Aziraphale really is just enough of a bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "Cougars" are loosely based on several women I've known over the years. Unfortunately.
> 
> The "emergency maintenance" handwashing poster bit really happened at work. Strange times, these... 
> 
> I'm going to try to get back to a more regular posting schedule with this. Hurricane Isaiais knocked out my power for four days, and that threw everything off.

“But wait. Why did they have me as Aziraphale Shepard, then? Did they adopt me?” It was about an hour later. They were in the flat above the shop. Aziraphale was on a deep fuchsia-pink velvet sofa, next to Rose. Crowley was sitting on his other side with Shadow, who had decided he had a new best friend, parked in his lap. He was hoping Mehitibel wouldn’t be too upset – well, any more upset with him then she already was. She was going to have to get used to having a dog in the extended family.

“They stole you,” Rose said. “They still have your sisters. My two girls.”

“But wait – if I was – who’s their father?” Aziraphale wasn’t exactly processing any of it. 

“Shepard,” Rose said, then looked at Crowley. “Rebekah was born in December of 1996 and Keziah was born the following November. By then he – Shepard – had another girl he was using as a vessel, but he kept me around to take care of my three. And the others.”

Crowley tried doing the math in his head, then resorted to using his fingers. Rose smiled. She’d been rather nervous about the fact that her beloved Zira was with someone who had such an intimidating reputation, but in real life, Crowley Deveraux-Gordon was, if anything, a sweet, loveable dork. And he and Aziraphale obviously adored each other. 

“That is – completely messed up,” he said after a moment. “Who _does_ something like that? And why?”

“His wife couldn’t have any more children,” Rose said. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but there were really serious complications with Jedidiah. I believe she may have ended up needing a hysterectomy. Shepard wanted, as he put it, “sons as a quiver full of arrows.” Whatever that meant, other than he wanted a _lot_ of them. And since he needed her around to take care of them, well – he did the next best thing, in his opinion. And it was easier to use young girls because, well – we couldn’t say no.”

“That is fucked - sorry…” Crowley put a hand over his mouth, then shook his head. “That is beyond screwed up. And here I thought it wasn’t possible to hate those people any more. Why did she let him? His wife, I mean?”

“His wife is – strange,” Rose said. 

“He just announced the birth of another son on his website,” Tracy said, coming in with tea for everyone. “I forget what he named this one.”

“Zira, sweetheart, I wish I could do something to make up for what I did to you.” Rose looked at him sadly. “I know what they must have done to you. But I…”

“It’s okay – um – is it okay if I call you my mom?” Aziraphale said, suddenly shy. 

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She could only imagine what those horrible people had done to him, but here he was, still the sweetest, gentlest, most forgiving thing ever.

“It’s all right. It kept you safe. That’s what’s important. And I got away. And I learned not to be like they are, ever. And I found you. Thanks to Crowley, that is.” He looked at Crowley, then back at Rose. “Crowley’s family is really nice. You’re going to like them.”

“And they’re going to love you two,” Crowley said. 

“Your mother is on that show, isn’t she? _Tadfield Confidential_. She plays the character who’s supposed to be – well, _his_ wife?” Rose looked at Crowley. 

“Except she’s more like you,” Aziraphale said. 

“Zira, love, she really isn’t. She wouldn’t have – done what I did.”

“You two are so much alike,” Crowley said. “Rose, he hurt you as badly as he did Zira. You couldn’t have done anything differently.”

“He’s brutal. And the sons are just as bad. Especially the one with the name than sounds like a shoe.”

Crowley let out a yelp of laughter. “I love it! The water buffalo and the shoe!”

“Water buffalo?” Rose’s bewildered expression was adorably like Aziraphale’s. 

“My ex. Gabriel. It’s a really long story.” Aziraphale blushed. 

“Dear, that sounds like a particularly bad spy novel,” Tracy said, laughing. 

Crowley smiled, already looking forward to introducing his parents to Rose and Tracy. 

“How did the two of you meet, dears?” Tracy inquired. 

“At the office. My cousin Freddie is one of Jim’s clients and I went with him one day,” Crowley said, smiling as he remembered…

_He’d seen the shy blonde the other day, when he’d stopped by to pick Freddie up from a meeting with Jim, but hadn’t gotten an opening to talk to him. He was being trained by a dark-haired young woman who Crowley would soon come to know as Maddy Baker. Today, however, was different._

_“That one went down like a lead balloon…” Crowley murmured, half to himself, listening to Jim’s reaction – loud scoffing laughter - to the first settlement proposal from Queen’s soon-to-be former manager._

_The shy, adorable blonde, who he had figured out was Jim’s new secretary, looked around from the window he’d been anxiously gazing out of, watching as storm clouds gathered over Kensington. Down on the street below, Holly and Beez were hurrying across the zebra crossing, Holly carrying a very familiar yellow umbrella. “I’m sorry. What was that?”_

_“I said that one went down like a lead balloon.” Crowley came over to join him._

_“Yes, it - it did, didn’t it? Uh…”_

_“Crowley.” He smiled, but the angelic blonde didn’t quite return it. He seemed to be having more than he could handle trying to make any kind of eye contact. He looked down again. From this angle, Crowley could see that he had long eyelashes a few shades darker than his pale hair, but couldn’t tell the color of his eyes._

_“Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me. First try and all. You’d think they’d know when to cut their losses and let the band go with someone else…” Crowley wanted very badly to hug him, gather him close and stroke his hair, tell him that everything was all right and that he’d take care of him. He looked so lost and afraid._

_“Zira? Didn’t you have a yellow umbrella?” Maddy interrupted them._

_“I…” The adorable blonde – Zira? – seemed to be either panicking or very close to it. He’d started shaking._

_“You did. Flaming yellow like anything.” Maddy’s voice was teasing, but gentle. “Lost it already, have you?”_

_“I – Igaveitaway…” Zira looked down at the floor._

_“You what?” Crowley said._

_“I gave it away!” It came out a bit more vehemently than he meant. “It’s about to rain and Beez had a doctor’s appointment because they think they might be expecting and I said here you go, take my umbrella…” He cringed and blushed, still not quite looking at them. “I’m sorry…” It was probably the most he’d said that entire day._

_As it turned out, Beez hadn’t been pregnant. Aziraphale got a serious scolding and a smackdown from Gabriel for coming home without the umbrella…_

_And Crowley realized that he was falling in love with this shy, awkward and thoroughly angelic creature._

~*~

“Crowley?”

“Angel? Is everything all right?” They hadn’t left Soho until after nine o’clock. There was still so much to catch up on. Back at the flat, he’d been sure his angel was never going to get to sleep, but Aziraphale had ended up dropping off almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Now he was sitting up in bed. 

“I just realized something…” Aziraphale’s eyes were wide, but not with fear. He looked both dumbfounded and transcendently joyful. 

“What?” Crowley sat up, too, unable to repress a smile at Aziraphale’s expression. He was practically glowing. 

“I’m not his child. Whatever else I am – I’m not his child.”

It took Crowley a moment. “Shepard, you mean?”

Aziraphale nodded. “I’m not one of them.” _Whoever I am, I’m not one of them._ The realization had jolted him out of a doze, albeit in the best possible way. 

“Oh, angel…” Crowley hugged him tight, realizing. 

“I’m not one of them…” Aziraphale hugged him back. “I know I’m a mess, I know how damaged I am – but I’m not one of them.” He looked up at Crowley. “Maybe I – really am worth…something…”

“You’re worth _everything_.” Crowley hugged him tighter. “You want to know something? Remember the day we met?”

“I’d just started that Monday,” Aziraphale said. “You came in with Freddie, didn’t you?”

“You’d given Holly and Beez your umbrella and Maddy was teasing you a little about it. That was when I knew I was in love with you.”

“Yeah, well – that – went down like a lead balloon, to borrow your phrase. I got such a smacking around for it when I got back to Gabriel’s flat that night.” Aziraphale shuddered. 

“For the _umbrella_?” Crowley’s eyes went wide. Granted, he would have been concerned had his angel turned up _sans_ umbrella, but only because he’d need another one. 

Aziraphale nodded. “Gabriel demanded to know where it was. He got mad when I told him Holly had it and he gave me quite the scolding and – well, smacked me around.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with him? It’s not like you’re a little kid. And even then, you certainly don’t do that. Well, maybe a little scolding to be more careful with your things if they actually lost it, but still…” Crowley’s parents hadn’t believed in corporal punishment. The worst he could ever remember was being grounded for a weekend, after they’d told him he couldn’t go to the park with some of his friends and he’d snuck off anyway. They’d been concerned about reports of someone slinking around possibly trying to abduct a child. Those had turned out to be greatly exaggerated, but the scare he’d given them had been all too real. 

“He did things like that. Monitored everything I did.” Aziraphale shivered. “I mean, I tell you where I’m going and what I’m doing, but that’s different. And when you ask – it’s not scary.” Crowley was as much of a mother hen as Anna – or his own (real!) mother, Rose, for that matter. He fretted and worried about everyone, although he wouldn’t always admit to it. “That was part of why I was so nervous when you were trying to talk to me. I thought that I’d seen Gabriel coming in, and if he’d seen me talking to you, there would have been hell to pay. But I wanted you to talk to me, because – well, you’re gorgeous. And I’d heard so much about you being really – well, mean – but you were nice.”

“Gabriel is an irredeemable piece of shit,” Crowley declared, lying back down with Aziraphale and holding him close. “I love you, angel.”

Aziraphale snuggled close. “I love you, too, dove.”

“Dove? I think I’m more of a raven,” Crowley said, kissing his nose.

“No. The raven didn’t come back. You did, even when you realized what a mess I am.” Aziraphale kissed him. “You made me start believing that maybe someone could actually love me the way I am.”

“Oh angel…” Crowley didn’t know what to say, so he settled for kissing him. “Same here. You make me feel as if I don’t have anything to hide, either.”

“You don’t, though.” Aziraphale twined his fingers through a long curl winding over Crowley’s shoulder. 

“Just the fact that I can’t cook, don’t quite know how to do anything useful with my life and wear women’s underwear,” Crowley deadpanned. Actually, about half his clothes came from the women’s department. He liked soft things – including his soft round angel – and men’s clothing tended to be – not soft. 

“The last bit can be out little secret. Because I think it’s pretty – well, hot.” Aziraphale blushed slightly. 

“Watch it, angel. You have no idea what I’m capable of turning up in,” Crowley said. 

“Like I’d object.” Aziraphale kissed him again. “You’re so gorgeous.”

A movement caught their eyes and they both looked up. Mehitibel was coming in, walking normally – until she realized her humans were awake and watching. With a yowl of feigned pain, she started limping, then sat down and started mewing pathetically. 

“She looked okay…” Aziraphale said, suddenly worried.

“She is. Drama queen…” Crowley got up to pick her up and put her in her spot on the foot of the bed anyway. “I can’t be mad at her, though. Not after today.” He climbed back in bed with Aziraphale and kissed him. “I’m so glad we found Rose, angel. I really am.”

Aziraphale snuggled close. Part of him wanted to beg Crowley to make love to him, but he was exhausted – not to mention that they now had a grumpy cat on the bed. Before he knew it, he’d drifted off to sleep, safe in his beloved’s arms. 

~*~

The next morning, Crowley went upstairs with Aziraphale when he dropped his angel off at work.

“Darlings, don’t keep us in suspense! What happened?!” Freddie demanded, sweeping over in his usual grand style.

“Well – I’m not a Shepard,” Aziraphale didn’t even know where to begin. “Apparently my name really _is_ Aziraphale Pratchett. And Rose remembered me. And – she’s my mum. And she still loves me. So my   
mum runs a sex shop in Soho with her aunt, who does tarot card readings and seances on the side…”

“Oh darling, how bloody wonderful!” Freddie pulled him into a huge, dramatic but heartfelt hug. “I told you it would be all right, dear. And I do hope you’re bringing them around soon.”

“You’ll love my Aunt Tracy,” Aziraphale said. “And thank you. You’ve all been so wonderful to me.”

“Dear, we all adore you. I hope you realize that,” Freddie said. 

“None more than me,” Crowley said. “See you tonight, angel.” He gave Aziraphale a quick kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Aziraphale looked shy. Crowley started out, then ducked back in to steal another kiss before he left. 

“Crowley…” Aziraphale actually blushed. 

“Hey, if you don’t kiss an angel before you leave for the studio in the morning, you have Kafka dreams,” Crowley said. 

“Aren’t you guys mixing the album?” Aziraphale was going to have to Google what Crowley meant about Kafka dreams. He really wished he was intelligent enough to have at least considered his GCSEs. But that wasn’t happening now, he thought with an inward sad sigh. 

“Exactly. Boooow-ring….” Crowley rolled his eyes dramatically, then stole another kiss. “Love you, angel. Talk to you later, okay?”

“Love you.” Aziraphale smiled, feeling shy and a little embarrassed, but also thinking _Oh my God, he’s so amazing and perfect and he loves me, of all people?!_ He didn’t think he was ever going to get over that. Nor did he want to. 

“You two are disgusting,” Ned grumbled good-naturedly. “All that sop and mush and lovey-dovey stuff? Unnatural.”

“Up yours,” Crowley retorted with a grin, then kissed Aziraphale again. “Love you, angel.”

“Love you, dove.” Aziraphale looked both sheepish and pleased as Crowley left. 

“He really is too much,” Holly said with a laugh. “I’m so glad everything worked out for you. Was she glad to see you?”

He nodded. “I have an uncle we haven’t met yet and she doesn’t know what happened to my father. She never saw him again after she was sent away. I don’t even think she got a chance to tell him she was pregnant.” He sat down and switched his computer on. “I don’t think I should try to find him. He doesn’t need me crashing into his life twenty-four years after the fact.”

“Who was he?” Maddy said. 

“Her boyfriend. It’s not like she doesn’t know who he is. But she’s afraid to try to find him now and – so am I, really.” He looked sad. “I’m lucky to have Rose – my mom – and my aunt. I’m not going to push it.”

~*~

“Guess what the “emergency maintenance” they closed the bathrooms for was?” Maddy said, coming back in. It was a couple of hours later. 

“Was it the handwashing posters?” Aziraphale said. The men’s loo was now festooned with posters advising that CLEAN HANDS ARE HAPPY HANDS! and LIFE IS MORE FUN WITH CLEAN HANDS! along with detailed instructions on how to achieve that goal, complete with a little song to sing while you washed for the allotted twenty seconds. 

“They got you, too?” Maddy gave him a wry smile. These were not normal times. Or maybe the new kind of normal times, she wasn’t sure. 

“Does the men’s loo also have the sign asking people not to line the toilet seats with those brown paper towels and then try to flush them?” Holly said. The sign hadn’t worked, because at least once a day, a stall was out of order for that very reason. 

“No, that was my doing,” Maddy said. “Those Blonde Cougar Melonheads from downstairs come up to use our bathroom and I know it’s them. It wasn’t happening before they moved in.” The Melonheads, as Maddy called them, were a group of four or five aggressively made-up and overly perfumed American women of some indeterminate middle age, who were, as her mother would have said with a certain disdain, “on the prowl.” They called themselves the “Gay Divorcees,” pointedly using the archaic sense of the word. They apparently worked for the same financial company, although in what capacity none of them knew, or cared to. 

“Crowley doesn’t like them,” Aziraphale said. “I think they’ve come on to him a few times when he stops by.” He frowned at his computer. “Ew. That’s - kind of gross.”

“What is?” Maddy looked around. 

“Was Crowley talking about a guy who turned into a cockroach?” Aziraphale’s eyes were wide. 

“His Kafka line? Probably. Although he stole it from _Calvin and Hobbes_ ,” Maddy said. 

“What’s that?”

“A comic strip. It hasn’t run for years though. The artist retired.” She started to say _You mean you never heard of it?_ but remembered how restrictive his upbringing had been. 

“I wish I were intelligent enough to have gotten into university like he did.” Aziraphale looked sad. “I really don’t understand what he sees in me sometimes.”

“Zira, you’re more than intelligent enough. You really should think about it,” Holly said, coming in. “I’m sure you aced your GCSEs.”

“I never took them.” Aziraphale looked down. “My fath– well, Dr. Shepard – said it wasn’t necessary for someone as – blindingly stupid – as I am.” 

“You’re not stupid,” Holly said. “Anything but.” Aziraphale’s pathological shyness belied his observant nature and quick intelligence. 

“I don’t even know what I would have studied if I had,” he said, looking into his cocoa mug rather than at them. “I never thought about, well - _being_ anything. I just wanted to maybe not get yelled at or smacked around all the time.” He’d spent too long in survival mode to even think about anything else.

~*~

Meanwhile, Crowley hadn’t actually headed for the studio. He’d ended up hurrying to Soho, where Tracy was just opening up. 

“Crowley, dear! What a lovely surprise!” she said, welcoming him in. 

He smiled. “I wanted to talk to you and Rose alone, if that’s all right? Alone as in – not with Zira.”

“Crowley, of course. What is it?” Rose said as Shadow scampered over as best he could with his stitches and the cone, wagging to be picked up. 

Crowley obliged him. “Well, first off…” He looked shy. “I – well, I feel like I should be asking for your permission to ask for Zira’s hand in marriage.” He looked as Shadow. “I’ve been planning to ask him at his birthday party Saturday. I know it probably seems sudden, but I’ve known him for close to a year and a half, even thought we weren’t a couple until fairly recently. But I’ve loved him since I met him. He’s everything to me.”

“How could we object?” Tracy said with a smile. Rose nodded. “You’re so obviously good for him, dear. And he obviously adores you.”

“You’re both wonderful.” He smiled. “I can see where he gets his personality from now. I’ve always thought he was nothing like the Shepards.”

“Crowley, about that…” Rose looked hesitant. “Do you think Mr. Beach or someone he works with might be able to help me get the girls back?”

“He’ll know someone who can,” Crowley said. “Him or Eliza. Let me call Maddy.”

Ten minutes later, they had an appointment to meet with Eliza at three-thirty. 

~*~

“Did you order? Did you order?” It was lunchtime and the sandwich shop down in the lobby was – actually not as busy as one would have thought for a Tuesday.

“I – uh…” Aziraphale really didn’t get to reply. 

“Then move it on over, honeybuns, and let the Good People through!” The cheerfully aggressive faux blonde shouldered him out of the way.

“The Good People?! Does that make us the Goodies?!” a second faux blonde squealed. They were all dressed in leggings, high-heeled boots and spangled, sequined sweaters, with the same short, heavily teased and lacquered hair, overdone makeup and jewelry and heavy perfume. Maddy had said their American accents were a mix of southern – she suspected one of them was from her home state of Arkansas – and midwestern. 

“The Goodies!” the first one whooped. 

_It’s an improvement on Gay Divorcees,_ Aziraphale thought.

“We’re the Goodies! The Goodies with the goodies!” The third one jiggled her prodigious chest in the general direction of the men doing their best to ignore the lot of them. 

“Ada, look! They have honey ranch!” The second one squealed, holding up a handful of salad dressing packets. 

“Ladies, I’m going to have to ask you…” the owner started, looking annoyed. 

“OOOHWHEEEE! Look at that!” the fourth one abruptly squealed. “I’m have me one hottie unwrapped, nothing on him!”

Without turning around, Aziraphale already had a bad feeling he knew exactly who they were talking about. 

“We’re gonna have us a hottie sammich for lunch!”

“A hottie Manwich!” the one who had pushed Aziraphale aside squealed. “Make it a Manwich, make it a meal!”

“Oh _fuck_ …” Aziraphale supposed he was entitled to swear occasionally. Now thankful he hadn’t actually ordered, he quickly threaded his way over to the bewildered Crowley, who was, unfortunately, the hottie the Melonheads were referring to. He darted between Cougars and grabbed his boyfriend’s hand, pulling him to the front of the shop.

“Hey, you bring that back, little boy! That’s ours!” one of them squealed gleefully. She started over, but got blocked by another woman who stood up abruptly and went digging in her purse. Aziraphale didn’t think it was coincidence. 

“I should have looked before I came in,” Crowley said. “Yow.” He was very pale, his eyes wide and rather panicked behind his dark glasses. 

“It’s not your fault you’re a snack,” Aziraphale said with a sly smile, then, in full view of the Cougars, pulled Crowley down for a deliberately messy, passionate kiss. 

“Mmph!” Crowley was surprised, but returned it eagerly. When their lips finally parted, they looked around to see all four of the Blonde Cougar Melonheads gaping at them in shock while the other patrons and the owner grinned in approval. 

“Sorry, ladies. He’s mine,” Aziraphale said, giving them an adorably innocent look, all blonde curls and big blue angel eyes. “I rather agree with you that he’s a hottie, but I’m the only one who gets to unwrap him.”

“Well I _never!_ ” the Cougar who had shouldered Aziraphale aside blustered as the rest of the shop dissolved into laughter and applause. 

“What a disgusting waste of a handsome young man!” The Goodie with the Goodies blustered. 

“You need to come with us, sweetie. We’ll show you what good loving really is!” the one who’d been holding up the salad dressing packets cooed, sidling closer. “You don’t need some silly little fag boy. You need you some real woman loving!”

“Okay, too far! I’ve tried to be nice, I’ve tried to ignore you, but this is beyond ridiculous!” Crowley snapped. “A bloke can’t even come in here without you lot all over him trying to make something of it!” He backed into the doorframe as Aziraphale got between him and Honey Ranch Woman. 

“I think this conversation, such as it may be, is over.” Aziraphale’s voice was quiet, but with a note of steel that Crowley hadn’t thought he possessed. His angel was, to put it mildly, fucking furious. “Come on, dove. Let’s go.” He grabbed Crowley’s hand and pulled him out of the shop. 

They didn’t speak until they were safely back on the fourth floor and out of the elevator. 

“That was bad. That was really bad. I’m probably screwed…” Aziraphale leaned against him. 

“You’re my proverbial knight in shining armor is what you are, angel. My avenging angel. They gang up on me like that all the time. I don’t even – I mean – they won’t take a bloody hint. Not even with a hammer.” Crowley said with a shiver, hugging him tight. “I really don’t know what to do about them.”

“ _That’s_ what they’ve been doing to you? Why didn’t you tell me?” Aziraphale’s eyes were wide. “I’m saying something to Jim. This has to stop. Now.”

“I hate to start trouble…” Crowley said, but followed him in. 

~*~

“Cameras don’t lie. At least not the security kind. So if they do try to start trouble, it’s not going to be just your word against theirs,” Jim was telling Crowley and Aziraphale a bit later. “I made sure to request the footage.”

“There are cameras in the sandwich shop?” Crowley said. 

“There are cameras everywhere in the building,” Jim said. “The ones in this office don’t turn on until four-thirty, though. But yes, they’re there and they do record, in case something happens. And by the way, Zira? I heard you were brilliant.” He’d heard the whole story from the sandwich shop owner, who’d wanted to make it very clear to Jim that his secretary had _not_ started it – just put a much-needed end to it.

“Good to know, I guess,” Crowley said, looking at Aziraphale. 

“Hey guys,” Maddy said, coming in. “Zira, if you guys didn’t order, we’re calling in an order from that awesome Mexican place. They do a great quesadilla.”

“Can I get in on that, too?” Crowley said.

“Sure can,” Jim said with a grin. 

~*~

Meanwhile, online on the _Mostly Nice and Accurate Music News Roundup:_

_And on a more serious non-musical note, if the rumors starting to swirl are indeed true – and we at the Roundup have no reason to doubt that they are – a certain “man of the cloth” may be far less of a Man of God than he claims to be. Watch this space. It might be about to get very complicated…_


	5. Circles of Heaven and Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale meets Crowley's ex-boyfriend and doesn't like him. Plus a hint of things to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luc is based loosely on Movie That Never Was Crowley. The one who was supposed to be "cool."
> 
> Although, for the record, I think our redhaired disaster demon is in fact quite cool. 
> 
> And a shoutout to everyone on Facebook for the slippy slidey stuff discussion!

Later, after work, they walked a little ways up High Street to pick up a new migraine prescription for Crowley and see what was playing at the cinema. They were thinking of a movie that weekend. 

“ _Guns Akimbo_ might be fun,” Crowley said. 

“Yeah…” Aziraphale said hesitantly, then looked at him. “Crowley?”

“What, angel? You had something else in mind?” Crowley squeezed his hand.

“No, I…” Aziraphale looked ashamed. “I’ve – just never been to one in a cinema.”

“You’re kidding.” Crowley looked at him. Granted, his parents hadn’t taken him to one until he was seven, preferring to let him watch at home as soon as they were available rather than force him to sit still when it was very much beyond his abilities at the time. 

“Well, you know how – he – was. And Gabriel never let me go anywhere that wasn’t work.” Aziraphale looked away. 

“Makes me wish something really epic and blockbuster was playing. So your first one could be something everyone wishes was their first.” Crowley said, putting an arm around his waist. 

Aziraphale leaned against him. “It’ll be fun no matter what it is.” He smiled up at Crowley, who kissed his nose. 

“Cutest thing ever.” Crowley pushed a soft, white-blonde curl out of Aziraphale’s eyes. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Aziraphale stretched up to kiss him quickly, then looked around. “What’s that place?” Red lights had just come on around the entranceway to the building they had just passed. There was already quite the crowd beginning to mill about, waiting to get in. 

“Some new club that just opened up. Supposedly a circles of hell theme or something.” Crowley thought it quite pretentious. 

“Come on before we both forget that prescription,” Aziraphale said. 

~*~

Walking back about forty-five minutes later, they found the crowd thicker. 

“Sheesh.” Crowley considered crossing the street, but he didn’t want to cross in the middle. High Street was bad enough sometimes at the zebra crossing. 

“Hold up, dove.” Aziraphale was trying to read the list of upcoming attractions at the cinema without forcing his way through the milling hipsters. He was already feeling hideously self-conscious and out of place, and they weren’t even going in.

Crowley stopped to look around. “Angel?”

“Well, well, well. Look what the proverbial cat dragged in.”

Crowley looked around, startled, as a dark-haired man with combed-back hair came over. He was dressed sharply all in black – expensive-looking black trousers, black silk shirt, black waistcoat cut to his trim, well-muscled figure – and a red tie. “Luc?!” His heart sank.

Aziraphale looked around from trying to read the movie marquee and quickly threaded his way over, sensing trouble. He couldn’t hear the conversation, but even without quite being able to see Crowley’s face, he could sense his distress. 

“So?” Luc smirked. “What brings you to the Nine Circles of Hell?”

“I…” Crowley was frozen, trapped in a toxic mix of awkwardness, panic and shame as his ex slowly looked him up and down. Luc had always had a special way of making him feel like he was something scraped off the bottom of a shoe. 

“I thought you would have made something with your little band by now. Pity you haven’t. I might have let you open for one of the real bands that play here.” Luc’s smirk grew bigger – and nastier. “It’s too bad you didn’t inherit any of your parents’ talents. Or their drive. You might be cool enough for me to let you in anyway if you had.”

Crowley couldn’t come up with a suitable retort. He looked down at the sidewalk, squeezing his eyes shut. Luc still had that special way of finding the one thing that would hurt the most and going right for it. He couldn’t come up with anything to say at all – and if he did speak, he was pretty sure that he was going to burst into tears. 

“Who do you think _you_ are?” Aziraphale demanded as he got between them, squeezing Crowley’s hand. He’d heard the last bit and nobody was going to get away with saying the same ugly things to Crowley that he’d heard all his life. He might have deserved the abuse, but Crowley didn’t.

“I used to sleep with him. You’re that preacher’s kid, aren’t you? Az-raphael or something like that?”

“It’s a-ZIRA-fayle!” he snapped. He hadn’t meant to let his annoyance show, but he didn’t care. “And no, I’m not his kid. I’m more than that. And I can see why Crowley dumped you.”

“Actually, I’m the one who “dumped” him, as you put it…”

“Your loss, asshole.” Crowley had rallied himself. “I may be nothing, but I’m still too good for you.”

“And if you actually think we were planning to waste our time hanging out in some overhyped dustbin nobody’s even heard of, think again,” Aziraphale added. “Now move.” He took Crowley’s arm, pushing past Luc and through the crowd. 

Crowley willingly let himself be pulled away. _So much for looking cool…_ he thought miserably.

“What a jerk!” Aziraphale exclaimed when they were back in front of the office building. “He’s as nasty as Gabriel was. Tosser.” He shot an annoyed look back in Luc’s direction. 

Crowley sank down on a bench, putting his hands over his face. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale sat down with him. “Are you all right?”

“No…” Crowley admitted. 

“That was Luc, wasn’t it?” 

Crowley nodded, unable to meet Aziraphale’s worried gaze. 

“I don’t like him. He’s horrid,” Aziraphale said. 

“Oh fuck…” Crowley’s voice was unsteady. 

Aziraphale hugged him. “I love you.” 

Crowley hid his face against Aziraphale’s shoulder, trying to breathe normally. 

"I’ve got you. It’s all right.” Aziraphale just held him. 

“That was bad. Fuck, that was bad…” Crowley finally got out. He looked up at Aziraphale, his amber eyes awash with tears. “He…he’s right, you know. I can’t…I’m not…”

“And you don’t have to be.” Aziraphale pushed his hair back. 

“Now you see how – not cool – I am…” Crowley put his hands over his face. 

“He’s not cool. There’s nothing cool about being an asshole,” Aziraphale said. 

Crowley looked at him. “Did you just curse _again_?”

“It’s been one of those weeks,” Aziraphale said, looking sheepish. He was trying to make Crowley laugh and he succeeded, more or less, even if his boyfriend was laughing through tears. They ended up in a long hug and kiss. 

“When did you get to be so fierce?” Crowley said when their lips parted. “This is the second time this week you’ve come to my rescue.”

“I…” Aziraphale blushed. 

Crowley hugged him tighter. “Rose knew what she was doing when she named you after an angel with a flaming sword.” Aziraphale might not have been able to stand up for himself, but for others it was a different story. Although he’d defended himself pretty well against Gabriel that time. 

Aziraphale nestled against him. “Shall we head home?”

“Home sounds like a great idea.” Crowley agreed, looking behind himself with a shudder. “Yeah, I’d either have been stuck alone at the flat every single freaking night or out there trying to make him look good and failing at it.” He looked back at Aziraphale. “But he’s right. I’m nothing. I’m not intelligent enough to do a damn thing with my life. I can’t even put furniture together.” He looked down. “Look what my parents accomplished. My one sister is a recording engineer, my other is a programmer, my youngest sister is already an accomplished actress…and I’m only famous for being a useless idiot…” That did it. He put his hands over his face with a sob. 

“You’re _not._ ” Aziraphale hugged him. “And even if you were, I’d still love you. Now stop saying horrid things about yourself, please? You sound like…well, me.” He stroked his hair. “It’s okay, dove. Don’t cry, please.”

“I-I’m sorry…” Crowley sniffled after a few minutes. “He just – got me right where it really hurts, y-you know.”

“Did he do that to you all the time?” Aziraphale’s eyes were a surprisingly deep blue in the dim light.

“He does it to everyone. I’m nothing special in that sense.” Crowley looked back down. “Or in any sense…”

“Stop. He’s jealous. I mean, look what you have. An amazing family, money, a bunch of really nice friends…”

“An adorable angel for a boyfriend.” Crowley leaned over to kiss him. “I love you.”

Aziraphale pushed Crowley’s hair out of his face, then leaned over to kiss him again. “I love you, dove. And you’re right. Let’s get out of here.”

~*~

Back at the flat, Aziraphale put something in the microwave to thaw while he preheated the oven, then rummaged through cabinets until he found the bag of rice. 

“What are you making, love?” Crowley was sorting through the stuff they’d picked up at Boots. 

“I was going to make lemon pepper salmon over rice with broccoli and cheese on the side, if that’s okay?”

“More than okay. It sounds divine.” Crowley smiled at him. 

“And I still owe you a red velvet cake.”

“Oh, angel.” Crowley went over to kiss him, still holding the shopping bag. Between the Bentley and the flat, they had quite the motley assortment of reusable shoppers. 

“Did you see I got lube?” Aziraphale looked at the bag. “I couldn’t remember if we opened the last tube or not.”

“Yes, and I’m glad you did. Although “lube” is a really icky word, come to think of it.” Crowley wrinkled his nose. 

“It – really is.” Aziraphale had to agree. “Not that I know what else we’d possibly call it.”

“Well – it’s what it is.” Crowley said, looking at the back of the box. The ever-practical Aziraphale had opted for the store brand. “Tracy recommended something called Gun Oil, but I don’t know about that. The name’s no better.”

“Wait. You asked my aunt…?” Aziraphale looked around. 

“I didn’t ask. She volunteered it!” Crowley’s eyes were wide. “I wasn’t going to ask one of my future in-laws about – slippy slidey cocky glidey…stuff….”

“Slippy slidey cocky glidey…?” Aziraphale broke into his wheezy squeak of a laugh. “Crowley!”

“Well, what else _are_ we going to call it?” Crowley was laughing too, partly in embarrassment and partly at how adorable Aziraphale was. 

“Dick Slick! When it’s absolutely positively got to get in there tonight!” Aziraphale suggested. 

“Add peppermint oil and call it Black Ice,” Crowley suggested. 

“I don’t think I’d want that anywhere near anything down there,” Aziraphale said, wide-eyed. 

“Yeah, that wasn’t well thought out, was it?” Crowley looked at the box again. “Just like I can’t see calling my cock a gun.”

“There’s a concealed weaponry joke there that I’m not making.” Aziraphale looked around from seasoning the salmon before wrapping it in foil and putting it in the oven. “Are you all right?” Something about Crowley’s mood seemed forced. 

“I guess.” Crowley sat down at the newly-installed breakfast bar. “Actually – no. I’m not.”

“Luc?”

Crowley nodded. “He – kind of really got to me, I guess.”

“I hope you aren’t giving up on the band because of me. I’m fine with it.” He really wasn’t, but he was going to make himself be if that was what Crowley wanted.

“No. Rich and Jamie really aren’t into it any more – I’m not even sure were going to do anything with the demos we’ve recorded, they’re that bad – and I don’t want the kind of life Freddie and the others have. I don’t want to be out on the road for months on end. I don’t want to spend the rest of my free time in a studio. I want – what we have now. But with me doing something besides being a scatterbrained little rich dilletante.” Crowley looked down. “Except I don’t have the brains or the concentration to do much of anything, as you know…”

“I can support us, if it comes to that…”

“Angel, I have more than enough to support us in this style until the end of time. I just feel like I should be doing something more. Something useful. I’m sure I’m a total embarrassment to my family, even if they won’t admit it.” Crowley sighed. “I’m sorry. You deserve so much better than me.”

“You’re the best there is.” Aziraphale came over, taking both his boyfriend’s hands in his. “You gave me the one thing I’ve never had until now.”

“What’s that?” Crowley’s first instinct was to make a risqué wisecrack, but Aziraphale’s eyes were too solemn. 

“Somewhere I’m safe. With someone who loves me. Where I don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing, or doing the wrong thing, or having something taken out on me. I’ve never felt like this before. I mean, when I was alone at least there wasn’t anyone to hurt me, but there wasn’t anyone there, either. And I – oh heck. I wanted _you_ there. Not just somebody. You.” Aziraphale gave up on trying to put his thoughts into words and kissed Crowley instead. It turned into a very long, deeply passionate kiss. 

“That’s the least you should expect from a relationship, though,” Crowley pointed out when their lips parted. 

“But it means everything. Especially if you never had it. And now…” Aziraphale hugged him tight. “None of this would have happened without you. None of it. I would never have found out I’m not – one of them. I’d probably be homeless again or in another bad relationship. At the very least, I wouldn’t be happy. I – I didn’t even know that I could _be_ happy. You’re everything, Crowley. I love you.”

“You’re strong. You would have been fine without me. But I want you with me, too.” Crowley pushed him off just enough to look into his blue-green eyes. “I love you so much, angel. You’re my world. You’re everything.” 

They ended up in another long kiss that was interrupted by an annoyed meow. Mehitibel was standing by her food bowl, tail switching, annoyed at her human servants who were too busy canoodling to do as they were supposed to and feed her. 

“I think we forgot someone…” Aziraphale said with a laugh. 

“The things I do just for a little pussy,” Crowley grumbled good-naturedly, giving Aziraphale another little peck on the mouth before getting up to find the cat food. 

~*~

“This coronavirus is scary,” Aziraphale said with a little shudder, deciding to change the channel before his anxiety went right over the edge. The flu he’d come down with at the end of January had been one thing, but this sounded worse. 

“I know, right? This year is kind of a mess already.” Crowley put the last dishes on the drying rack and joined him on the sofa. “I wonder if we’ll end up locked down like they did in China?” Now he shivered. “Locked down with Luc would have been – really bad.”

“Try Gabriel. Or worse, my fam – the Shepards.” Aziraphale caught himself. 

Crowley made a face. Shepard himself had already been on TV the day before, calling the emerging epidemic a very racist term that Crowley refused to dignify by repeating, even to himself. Aziraphale’s not-the-father had also stated that “upstanding, moral Britons of good breeding” had nothing to fear from it – as if a virus was going to differentiate between races or social classes. “Ew. Of course, I think your real family would be different.”

“Your family would be fun,” Aziraphale said. “And when is _1941_ opening? I think I’d like to see it.”

“Angel, when that opens, you and I will be at the big red-carpet premier,” Crowley said, leaning over to kiss him. “I don’t think it’s going to be for awhile, though. It was supposed to be this summer, but the studio just put it off until Christmas because of this coronavirus. Now it’s supposed to open everywhere Christmas day, but I think the premier will be the twenty-third.”

“Oh wow…” Aziraphale was enchanted by the idea of one of those big holiday movie premier parties. He’d seen glimpses of such things on TV, and it looked so – magical. “Were there any others you wanted to go see?”

“Well, I was looking forward to that new James Bond flick, but it’s been delayed until November at the earliest. And they’ve pushed back _Wonder Woman 1984_ as well.” Crowley looked at him. “Do either of those sound good?”

Aziraphale nodded. “They both do.”

“My mom was teasing my dad about auditioning to be the next James Bond, but he said no way.” Crowley’s dad played an archology professor on the rather Lovecraftian show of the same name. And _Tadfield Confidential_ had just been greenlit for three more seasons. 

“Your mom should be the next Doctor,” Aziraphale said. Crowley had quickly turned him into a Whovian long before they got together. “For one thing, she’d be amazing. For another thing, I like the idea of the Doctor still being a woman and for another thing – she’s ginger.”

Crowley let out a yelp of laughter. “I love it! Wait until we tell her.”

~*~

“I still can’t get over how much he just vanishes into a role,” Crowley was saying later, meaning his father. Oddly enough, the role of the Professor was the only one where he didn’t, at least to Crowley. The curious, compassionate, easygoing and intelligent Professor was basically David Gordon playing himself. 

“He plays so many characters who are nothing like him,” Aziraphale said. “Your mom is exactly like Miriam Gladstone, you know.” Miriam was the character she played in _Tadfield Confidential_. He had absolutely no idea if it was Shepard’s wife’s real name. She’d always been “Ma’am.” 

“My mom has always been cast more as a type. She says it’s just one of those things about being a woman.” Crowley was snuggled up with his head pillowed on the deliciously soft curve of his angel’s belly. “Ngk. How could Gabriel have thought this was ugly?”

“Thought what was ugly?” Aziraphale looked over the top of the tablet at him. 

“This.” Crowley nuzzled closer. 

Aziraphale blushed. “Crowley…”

“There’s nothing good on. Come on, let’s go to bed.” Crowley rolled to his feet and held a hand out for his angel.

“It’s only twenty past eight…” Aziraphale said.

“I said go to bed, love. I didn’t say anything about sleeping,” Crowley pointed out. 

Aziraphale blushed, but followed him willingly. 

~*~

“Leave the one light on if you don’t mind, love?” Crowley called from the bathroom, where he was brushing his teeth. 

“I…okay…” Aziraphale was feeling particularly raw and vulnerable. Crowley’s nervous comment about the unpleasantness of being locked down with his own ex-boyfriend had sent poor Aziraphale’s mind careening down routes he really wished it wouldn’t go, dredging up every nasty comment and disgusted look Gabriel had ever thrown his way about his weight, his body, his general unattractiveness… 

“I was wondering – would you be okay with me maybe – taking pictures of you at some point? Like – nudes?” Crowley was pretty sure he was blushing. “Or of both of us, maybe?”

“I…I never – thought about it…” Aziraphale was blushing at the thought – and at the realization that he found it rather arousing. 

“Not now, angel. But sometime.” Crowley came back in, looking sheepish. “It’s just – something I always wanted to try.”

“Another one of your fantasies?” Aziraphale said, genuinely curious. 

“Yeah,” Crowley admitted, sitting down on the bed with him. “Sometimes I’m taking pictures of you and sometimes it’s the other way around. But either way, it just gets hotter and hotter – and well…” He trailed off, then said, not looking at him. “When I’m the one being photographed, it always ends with me being coerced into taking my clothes off. And then – whoever’s taking the pictures makes their move and – I’m too scared to resist. And I always imagine them being – really rough with me. Like I want it, but not that way, but it doesn’t matter…” He knew he was blushing again. 

“I hope no one actually did that to you.” Aziraphale hugged him from behind. 

“No, but if you did – you wouldn’t be coercing me. I could just – act like it, maybe?”

Aziraphale hesitated. “Not tonight, but – as long as you really wanted me to – I mean, I wouldn’t actually hurt you or anything?”

“Angel, I’d want it so badly. I’d just – pretend, you know.” Crowley turned around to take Aziraphale in his arms. “I was too ashamed to admit any of this to Luc. Besides, you saw him. You know how he’d react. He would have either made fun of me or – actually hurt me. Although – I didn’t exactly mind it when...” He broke off, realizing what he’d just said a moment too late. 

“He hurt you.” Aziraphale looked at him solemnly. 

Crowley nodded. “Not like – in a scene or anything. But – he wanted what he wanted and I never said no. He could be – rough.”

“You’re a bigger mess than I am,” Aziraphale said gently. “And I love you.” 

“I love you, angel.” Crowley kissed him softly, relieved. “And – do you maybe feel like being on top tonight?”

“Whatever you want, dove.” Aziraphale returned the kiss. “Whatever you want.”


	6. The Past Doesn't Always Stay the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything seems to be normal - until it isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for domestic abuse, both remembered and current. (Current is NOT Aziraphale and Crowley!) 
> 
> Crowley and Aziraphale have a NSFW interlude at the beginning. 
> 
> The Book Of Carla (name changed, of course) was a real binder bequeathed upon me by a retiring coworker as if it were the Holy Grail of the Unit.

In his angel’s arms, Crowley could make himself believe that it had always been this way. 

He really hadn’t wanted to admit to himself, much less to Aziraphale, just how dysfunctional his only other long-term relationship had been, because he knew that no matter how bad he thought he’d had it, Aziraphale had had it much worse. But it hadn’t been good. Worse, their mutual friends had all sided with Luc in the whole mess, cutting Crowley out as effectively as Luc had the night he’d thrown him out of the flat. It had actually been several months before he’d finally ventured back to London, after his mom had nagged him into meeting up with Tianna and Freddie. _Crowley, you can’t keep doing this to yourself. Go out there and cause some trouble…_

As the fates would have had it, that first time venturing out, he’d followed Freddie to his lawyer’s office, where a certain angel was having his first day of training as a secretary. The angel whose soft kisses and caresses were currently driving him wild. 

“Angel…” He pulled Aziraphale down for a long, bruising kiss. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? I love you so much.”

“Oh, Crowley…” Aziraphale pressed closer, returning the kiss. “It’s all right. I’ll take care of you.” 

“Please…” Crowley whined, not sure at all what he needed, but needing it right then, more than anything. He whimpered, clutching at Aziraphale hard enough to leave marks, shivering with desire as his beloved angel eased one slick finger in, then another, working him open gently. “Angel, hurry, I – I need you…”

“Shh, love.” Aziraphale pressed a soft kiss to the tip of Crowley’s cock, giving it a little lick for good measure. 

Crowley whimpered, then focused on him. “Beautiful bastard angel. You’re such a tease.” The adoration in his eyes and voice made Aziraphale’s knees feel weak despite the fact that he wasn’t even standing up. “Ngk. Hurry up…”

“Hurry up and what?” Aziraphale said, amused. 

“Hurry up and fuck me until I’m senseless…”

“Such a mouth on you.” Aziraphale kissed him. 

“I’d rather have your mouth on me.”

“Again?”

“Angel, please…”

“Dove…” Aziraphale leaned over to kiss him again, then braced himself into position and slowly pushed in, making Crowley cry out and try to pull him closer.

“Angel, please…” He cried out again as Aziraphale found his rhythm, twining around him and whimpering with each thrust. “Oh angel…angel…”

“Dove…” Aziraphale shifted their positions so he could kiss Crowley again, gazing into his eyes in rapt wonder. If someone had told him back on that afternoon in December when he was so certain that Crowley would never want to see him again after the party that this would be the outcome, that he’d be watching Crowley coming undone beneath him as they made love, in a huge plush bed that was now theirs, safe and warm in a home he never imagined he would ever have…if someone had told him all this would happen, he would probably have – to be honest, probably hidden out in the supply room and cried at how cruel a joke it was. 

It didn’t take long for either of them. He cried out when he came, his climax sending Aziraphale over the edge a moment later. They clung together in the aftermath, Crowley shivering as his breathing slowly eased out to normal. 

“You okay, dove?” Aziraphale murmured after a few minutes. 

“Better than okay.” Crowley kissed him.

“We should get cleaned up, but…” Aziraphale, on impulse, grabbed his phone off the nightstand and took a quick selfie of the two of them. It wasn’t explicit, but at the same time, given how rumpled and obviously undressed they were, there was no doubt what they’d just been doing. 

“You naughty thing,” Crowley said with a laugh. “Dare you to post that on Facebook.”

“No way. One, I’d probably get zucced. We’re a mess. Two, this is just for us.” Aziraphale kissed him. “Let me get a washcloth and get us cleaned up.”

“Actually, let me come with you…” Crowley followed him into the bathroom.

“I thought you already did.” Aziraphale couldn’t resist. 

Crowley laughed and kissed him. “Silly angel.”

~*~

Later, nestled against Crowley and on the verge of sleep, Aziraphale was struck by a thought that jolted him awake. 

_Wait. Did he call my Aunt Tracy his future in-law?!_

He looked around, but Crowley was already asleep. Not that he would have had the nerve to ask him about it anyway.

_Don’t be stupid, Aziraphale. He isn’t going to ask you to marry him. And what’s the big deal about it, anyway?_

He supposed it really wasn’t that big of a deal. Just that it would be nice being Crowley’s husband. Knowing that Crowley actually wanted to officially keep him around. Knowing that he actually belonged somewhere.

But he was being silly and he knew it. 

He snuggled closer with a contented sigh. It was enough just being in Crowley’s arms, the warmth of his body and dark-chocolate scent of his skin, knowing that he was safe and loved…

And so he drifted off to sleep.

~*~

Crowley awoke out of a weirdly complicated dream – something about setting up a party and he, his sisters and Aziraphale trimming holographic purple tablecloths to fit the tables while Maddy ran around gathering scraps because they had to account for every bit they trimmed – to find Aziraphale nestled serenely against him, deep in slumber. It was, according to the clock his angel had insisted on putting in the bedroom, 3:04 AM. 

They still had plenty of time to sleep.

He smiled, thinking of their first night – and morning – together. He’d awakened at some indeterminate time after the sun had struggled above the horizon to find his thoroughly debauched and pleasantly exhausted angel in his arms, sound asleep. 

He’d realized he wanted to wake up like that every day.

The strange thing was that Aziraphale saw through all his sass and attitude with the same clarity that Luc had – except that with Aziraphale, there was no judgment, no manipulation, nothing catalogued to be thrown back at him at the worst possible time. Just acceptance and love.

_Because,_ Crowley thought unhappily, _Face it, you’re kind of a disappointment. Look at the rest of your family. Now look at yourself. Not a pretty picture, is it?_

He shivered a bit, squeezing his eyes shut. It took so much mental energy to just keep track of what he was supposed to be doing some days. He relied very heavily on written reminders, his phone – and more recently, on Aziraphale. Thankfully, his angel didn’t seem to mind, keeping him organized with the same efficiency he kept Jim Beach on schedule five days a week. He also acted like it was the most normal thing in the world, even though Crowley was pretty sure it wasn’t. 

It helped, though. A lot. And even better, he was learning Aziraphale’s methods and starting to adopt them. 

_Maybe I can be something, after all. At the very least, maybe I’ll be his husband someday…_

He really hoped Aziraphale would say yes. 

~*~

_He usually didn’t leave bruises that showed – he was careful like that – but this time he’d landed a particularly vicious blow that left Aziraphale with what he knew was going to be a nasty black eye, along with a mass of other bruises and what he feared were cracked ribs. After one final kick, he’d stormed out, presumably to find one of his other side pieces, after telling Aziraphale that he’d damn well better be there with breakfast waiting when he returned in the morning, or there would be even greater consequences._

_He didn’t think Aziraphale would dare leave the flat in such a state._

_He was very wrong._

_Aziraphale stayed huddled on the floor until he heard the elevator door close in the after-midnight quiet, then hurried to the window, looking out, watching as Gabriel strode away. Once he was in a cab and well out of sight, Aziraphale did the only thing he could think to do – grabbed some of his clothes, the Bible case he’d hidden the photo of Rose in and his wallet and left, throwing one of Gabriel’s hooded sweatshirts over his clothes and pulling the hood up so no one would see his face – or the bruises. He could only think of one place to go._

_The office._

_The lobby was open, but no one was around. He took the elevator to the fourth floor, let himself into the suite with the key Jim had given him the week he started and made his way to his desk, sinking down in the chair and burying his face in his hands._

_He didn’t know what to do, but he knew that if he did what Gabriel demanded, he’d end up dead._

_He was honestly rather surprised that the idea wasn’t as appealing as it seemed it should have been._

_It hadn’t occurred to him to ask any of the others for help. He’d never had anyone to turn to. He didn’t think they’d want to be bothered, and he couldn’t much blame them…._

_He didn’t realize he was crying until a sob got away from him._

_It was too much. Terrified, broken, finally feeling the pain from his many injuries, he huddled at his desk and wept._

_“Angel?”_

_It was later. How much later, he didn’t know. But there was a gentle hand stroking his hair._

_“Angel, are you all right?”_

_He looked up, through tears, realizing he’d somehow cried himself to sleep with his head on his desk. Crowley was sitting on his desk, looking worried._

_“Angel, who did this to you? Was it Gabriel?” His voice was gentle, but there was fury behind it._

_Aziraphale nodded. “I started it, though. I – I argued with him…” He was crying again, hadn’t really stopped._

_“Come on, love. I’m going to take you to get fixed up. Then you’re coming home with me…”_

_There was a crash as the door was kicked open and Sandalphon stood there with a gun, Gabriel grinning behind him…._

Aziraphale awoke with a frightened start, barely keeping from crying out in terror. Crowley, holding him tightly from behind, didn’t quite wake up at the movement, but stirred and hugged him closer, curling around him more. With a little shiver, Aziraphale rolled over and snuggled closer. 

The first part of the dream had actually happened. It had, however, been Maddy who found him at the office when she came in early after dropping Eliza off at Gatewick to catch a flight. He’d ended up telling her everything, expecting her to be disgusted, expecting to be fired and sent to his doom…

Except he wasn’t. 

The others had been appalled, but at Gabriel. Jim had immediately arranged for Aziraphale to stay at the suite the firm kept reserved at the Grand for clients, where he could be kept safe. Maddy had insisted on taking him to A&E to get his injuries tended to. She’d even bought him an egg sandwich and cocoa when she realized he hadn’t eaten anything substantial in several days and taken him to get a cellphone, because he’d left the one Gabriel had given him behind. 

Crowley didn’t know the whole story. He was too ashamed to tell him. They had only met two days earlier, then not seen each other again for a week and a half. By that time, Maddy had taught him how to cover the remnants of his black eye with makeup and Crowley never guessed anything was amiss.

He peeked at the clock he’d put in the bedroom. 4:04 AM.

He hoped it wouldn’t be a case of Sleep Not Found. 

So thinking, he drifted back off, safe in Crowley’s arms. 

~*~

"You want a bacon, lettuce and tomato wrap or turkey club again?” Aziraphale called in the direction of the bedroom, where Crowley was getting dressed. 

“Angel…” Crowley came in, pulling a black Henley over his head. “You know you don’t have to fix my lunch like this.” He kissed Aziraphale’s cheek. His angel always smelled like vanilla and white chocolate, with a bit of lavender mixed in. Sort of like an angel food cake, now that he thought about it. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but don’t ever feel like you have to.”

“It’s no problem to make a second wrap,” Aziraphale said, turning around to give him a quick nuzzle. He smelled so good. Dark chocolate, cinnamon, sandalwood and his chosen fragrance, which Aziraphale had figured out was “Miracle” by Lancôme. The women’s version, not the men’s. 

“Is bacon, lettuce and tomato too much trouble?” 

“No, of course not, so long as you don’t mind smoked turkey peppercorn bacon and romaine, red leaf, kale, spinach and watercress spring mix.” Waitrose didn’t carry such ordinary items as bacon and iceberg lettuce. “So – I guess either way it’s a BLT.”

“Works for me.” Crowley smiled, watching him. “But never feel like you have to, love. I’m not Gabriel. And where did you learn to fold a wrap like that? Mine always come unraveled.” 

“From the coffee shop. They sell wraps and whatnot there, too. Of course, that was also how I met Gabriel, which wasn’t so good. But I also met Beez there, and they helped me get out of it.” Aziraphale was making one of the wraps while he spoke. “Beez knew about the opening in Jim’s office from Holly, and told me about it. I didn’t think I’d get the position. I think Gabriel just allowed me to interview so he could use it against me when I didn’t get it. Except – I did get it.” He turned to look at Crowley, leaning back against the counter. “He didn’t think I’d make it past the first week. When that turned into the first month, he demanded I quit. I – refused. It was the first time I told him no and - he didn’t like it. It ended with him giving me a pretty good seeing to. With his fists.” Still haunted by the dream, he’d decided to tell Crowley everything before he lost his nerve.

“He’s subhuman,” Crowley said, gently running his fingers through his angel’s soft curls. 

“Usually he wouldn’t leave me with bruises that showed, but this time he gave me a pretty impressive black eye. He thought I’d be too ashamed to leave the flat. Instead – I snuck out after he fell asleep and went to the only safe place I knew to. The office at something like two in the morning. Jim had already given me a key. Maddy found me. She’d had to drop Eliza off at the airport, so she’d just come in. I was sure I was going to be fired. Instead, Jim and Ned told me I wasn’t going back to the flat except with them to get my things, and they were going to put me up in the hotel suite they have for clients until I could find a place. But Gabriel had already cleared out by the time we got there. They put me up in the hotel for about a week anyway, on the off chance he came back, but he left me alone.”

“You didn’t press charges?” Crowley said. 

Aziraphale shook his head. “I just wanted out. I had a feeling that if I let it go, he wouldn’t come after me, but if I tried to go after him, I’d be in serious danger.” He shivered. “I also think Ned may have told him to stay away from me.” Given that Ned was six feet four inches of solid brawn and absolutely terrifying when truly angry, it would have been an effective deterrent. “They got the money he’d taken from me back, plus Ned demanded he give me a little extra. I found that flat I was living in before about a week later. It wasn’t nice, but I was safe. It took the longest time before I realized that Gabriel had hooked up with Vikki. She had no idea. She was hired about three months afterwards and was already with him by then. Although I don’t think it was entirely coincidence that the agency placed her there.” He wouldn’t have put it past Gabriel to be somehow trying to spy on him. 

“Agency?” 

“She was a temp at first – Jim brought her in to take the pressure off the three of us answering phones after _Night At The Opera_ came out – but she worked out well and he hired her. It really made a difference having someone else being primary on phones.” He smiled shyly. “And – that’s it. I think you know everything about me now.” 

“You’re so brave. You know that?” Crowley hugged him tight. “You’re brave and you’re perfect and I can’t believe you love someone like me.”

“Not someone like you. I love you. I think that’s different.” Aziraphale kissed him. “And I’m hardly perfect. Much less brave. You know that.”

“Stop that. You are.” Crowley kissed his nose. “Angel Face.”

Aziraphale blushed. 

~*~

As always, Crowley went up to the office with Aziraphale to see him off. 

“Wait.” Aziraphale had just realized that he had both lunchbags. “Here.” He handed Crowley his. “It’s going to hard getting through the day without this.”

“Listen, angel.” Crowley put a hand under Aziraphale’s chin, gently tilting his head up so their eyes met. “It’s coming home to you that gets me through the day.” He kissed his angel softly, started out the door, then poked his head back in. “Not that I don’t appreciate the wrap. See you this afternoon, angel. Love you.” He kissed him on the cheek. 

“Love you, dove.” Aziraphale was sure he was blushing. 

“He’s too much,” Jim said with a laugh. He actually thought the way Crowley came upstairs to see his angel off every morning was rather – well, adorable. 

“He gives the rest of us a lot to live up to,” Brian said. 

“You do, though,” Maddy pointed out. 

“I try, love.” He kissed her cheek. 

~*~

“Well. Those were – certainly all words.” Maddy was somewhat less than impressed with the latest governmental briefing on the coronavirus. They had started watching live online, but quickly realized it wasn’t worth the bandwidth.

“A lot of words to say absolutely nothing,” Aziraphale agreed. 

“Right?” She smiled. Aziraphale didn’t realize he had a real way with words when he was actually bold enough to speak. 

“Crowley and I were talking about it last night. He was wondering if we were going to end up locked down like in China,” Aziraphale said. 

“We might.” Maddy looked at the computer, even though she’d just closed the BBC News website, then back at him. “I hope they pay us something if they do.”

“You’ll all get paid if we do,” Jim said, coming in. “We were talking about earlier. Ned, Eliza and I can work from home, but realistically, there’s not a lot you four can do remotely, except be there if we do need you. But yeah, this virus is bad. And – oh heck, I was coming out to tell you something else, but I…damn. Oh yeah. I started something new. I’m backing up the documents server to one of those plug-in hard drives every night and bringing it home with me. I have two, so I’m alternating. So make sure you back everything up to your folder on the I drive every day, please?” Everyone in the office had a folder on the shared drive where they saved work, in case someone else needed to find it. 

“Maddy told me not to save anything to my computer as far as work,” Aziraphale said. 

“I know Carla insisted on saving everything to H and copying over, but I never saw the sense in it,” Maddy admitted, looking sheepish. Carla had been her predecessor. Maddy, in fact, had a huge three-ring binder Carla had bequeathed her upon retirement, which apparently detailed every policy and procedure for the past fifteen years, going back to when it had been a firm specializing in questionable personal injury lawsuits and quickie divorces. 

“And you’re right,” Jim agreed. “So there you go. I really didn’t have to tell you that.” The H drive was everyone’s designated local drive and the I drive was the shared one.

~*~

Around lunchtime, Maddy was typing busily away at her computer and Holly was trying to find the red ink to reink the date stamp when they were startled by a loud *THUNK* from the direction of the file cabinets. 

“Need a hand?” Maddy looked around, thinking that the entire pile of files Aziraphale was putting back had fallen over. 

“Nope. It didn’t come apart.” He was carefully picking up a close to five-inch thick file, tucking the few loose papers back inside. “Sorry. Butter fingers.” It had slipped from his hands while he was trying to put it back in its place on the shelf.

“Is that the Stafford file?” Holly said. 

“Yeah. Volume three. How did you guess?” Aziraphale looked at her.

“Just a hunch.” They spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to keep Stan Stafford out of trouble. He was the former lead singer of a band called Yo Mamma’s Boyz and fancied himself to be the next David Lee Roth. Upon hearing that, Crowley had deadpanned that David St. Hubbins was a better comparison – a comparison he’d ended up having to explain to the adorably bewildered Aziraphale, who’d had no idea who either one was. 

“Sorry, Mad. Not meaning to intrude. Just looking for the copier manual…” Jim reached around her to look through a small cadre of binders neatly arranged in the cabinet above her desk. 

“I think Zira has it over there,” she said. 

“There wasn’t anything in it that needed to be locked up, so I made a place on top of the file cabinet,” Aziraphale said, looking around. “I hope that was – okay…”

“Good idea, actually. And what’s this?” Jim had taken out the huge and unwieldy Book of Carla.

“Carla’s infamous binder,” Maddy said with a wry smile. “I keep meaning to get rid of all that and take the dividers and sheet protectors out, but I think a lot of it will need to be shredded.”

“She wouldn’t even let me look through this thing.” Jim started leafing through the massive binder. It was four inches of printouts with handwritten notes and addendums, all neatly sleeved, with multicolored vinyl dividers (with pockets!) holding more sheets with notes. “Wow.” Curious, he leafed to a section on “Office Setup And Procedures.”

“Hey, look at this. I didn’t know the supply room was a safe room!” he said after a moment. “That’s good to know, I guess.”

“Safe room? Like a wall safe?” Aziraphale came over. “Is that why it has a combination lock?”

“Not that kind of safe. The door and walls are bulletproof and reinforced, so they can’t be kicked in. Plus the lock can’t be shot off, according to this.” 

“Why would we need something like that?” Aziraphale said, wide-eyed.

“No idea. I know the former owners were a personal injury firm. Paranoia, maybe?” Jim kept leafing through the binder. “How to deposit checks. One, record check number and amount in Deposit Ledger. Two, write out deposit slip. Three, exit the office, face the elevator and select the down button. Four, board elevator and push the button for Floor #1, the Lobby Floor…”

“We have a paper ledger?” Aziraphale looked anxious. “I was just using the Excel spreadsheet.”

“That’s what we use now. Carla was a technophobe. She always talked about “wanting that piece of paper proof” in her hand,” Maddy explained. 

“What happened to her?” Aziraphale said. 

“She retired. I have a feeling she didn’t like me very much,” Holly said. “Maddy was new, and learning, and Carla took every opportunity she could to “tweak” what I’d told her…”

“Which was usually her telling me to do whatever it was the dead opposite way of what you’d just told me,” Maddy said. “Honestly, she meant well, but really.”

“She probably would have had me in tears doing that,” Aziraphale said. 

“She would probably have been trying to set you up with one of her granddaughters,” Maddy said. “You’re the exact sort of “nice young gentleman” she always complained doesn’t exist anymore. Well, apart from the fact that you’re gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide, that is. That she would have dedicated herself to fixing.” The line, borrowed from a book, was a long-running joke between them. 

“Completely disregarding her own mantra of “if it isn’t broken, don’t try to fix it” every time something changed that she didn’t like,” Holly added. 

“Although that’s how they broke me,” Aziraphale said softly. “Trying to fix me.”

“Right? Idiots.” Holly said, giving his hand a squeeze as she walked by. “You’re not broken. Anything but. You wouldn’t be here if you were. You’d be one of them.”

“Which I’m not. Literally not. _Literally_ literally not, as Crowley would say.” Aziraphale had to laugh at that one. 

“You and Crowley are seriously too cute together,” Maddy said. 

Aziraphale looked shy, but pleased. Before he could say anything, though, Crowley burst in, looking very much less than pleased. 

“C-Crowley?” For a moment, Aziraphale thought his boyfriend’s anger was directed at him, then realized he was accompanied by Maddy’s cousin Carlton, who was leading the obviously distraught Vikki by the arm. 

“Jim, did you say there are cameras?” he said as Jim came out from the back, sensing rather than hearing the commotion. He’d been standing in the file room, trying to figure out just how – and why it was a safe room.

“Yeah, why? And Vikki, are you all right?!”

“She’s not. Some worthless piece of shit just hauled off and punched her in the face!” Crowley glared back in the direction of the door. 

“I’ll call security!” Jim hurried back to his office. 

“It’s okay. We got you. We aren’t gonna let him get away with it!” Carlton was saying. “That’s not cool. That’s not the Partyman way. A true Partyman treats women right!” He had positioned himself between the door and Vikki’s desk, as if fearing that her assailant would return. “He isn’t gonna get away with that, no way, no how, no siree Bob!”

“I haven’t heard that expression in pretty much – ever.” Crowley looked at him. As peculiar and borderline annoying as Maddy’s cousin could be, he seemed to have a good heart. “Vikki, sit down. It’s okay. We’ll get this sorted out.”

“Vikki?” Aziraphale had come over, sitting on his heels in front of her chair. “How bad is it? Do you want us to call 999?”

She looked up. Her right eye was already partially swollen shut and very red. 

“Yeah. You need that looked at,” Aziraphale decided, flinching. He was having some very uncomfortable flashbacks to that morning almost a year and a half ago. “Mad? Ask Jim to tell them we need the medics too, would you?”

“Gotcha.” She hurried off. “Jim!”

Aziraphale looked around as Beez came in, stopping dead at the confusion inside. “What in the absolute _fuck?_ ”

“Beez, do me a favor? Run and get some wet paper towels from the loo? Please?” Aziraphale looked at them. 

“Right!” Beez returned a moment later with several cold wet towels, which Aziraphale used to try to clean up Vikki’s eye a bit. 

“Vikki? Who did this to you?” he said. 

Crowley was watching his angel taking control of the situation with something approaching awe. 

“Jed…” she sniffled. 

“Jed?” Aziraphale looked confused.

“My boyfriend. He…” she trailed off. 

“Jed who?” Holly came over as well, along with Ned. “Vikki, what’s his name?” As she spoke, Aziraphale got to his feet.

“Jed S-Shepard…” Vikki sniffled dismally. 

Aziraphale’s eyes went very wide and he took a step back. “J-Jedidiah…?”

“I think s-so,” Vikki said dismally. 

“How d-did you meet him?” Aziraphale was trying to keep his voice from shaking. 

“He works for Hermes. I met him in the lobby. W-why?”

“That’s no coincidence,” Crowley said darkly. “What the fuck – excuse me – would he be doing in Kensington otherwise?”

“I’m sorry…” Vikki started crying harder.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Aziraphale said, rallying himself. He went back over to her. “It wasn’t you. He doesn’t have any right to do what he did…”

“Or anything else he’s doing,” Crowley added. 

“What do you mean?” Maddy said from the other side of the secretarial bay, where she was standing, eyes wide, holding the little bright-yellow Eternal Dalek that normally sat on the ledge in front of her desk. “Who is he?”

“Well – up until this week I thought he was one of my older brothers…” Aziraphale said shakily.

“I never told him anything about you, Zira, really!” Vikki sobbed. “I’m sorry, please don’t hate me!”

“Vikki, if you had it would have been okay. You didn’t know,” Crowley said, going to her as well. “Oh fuck, he did a number on you, as Tianna would say. I’m pissed off at him, not you. You’re not to blame for anything. He was in the wrong.” 

“Definitely,” Aziraphale said. He was terrified, but also angry that his friends were being dragged into this as well. Crowley was right. First Sandalphon hanging out Gabriel and now this? It was no coincidence. 

“I shouldn’t have told him I didn’t want him to come over tonight…” Vikki sniffled. 

“No, it wasn’t you,” Maddy said, coming over. Aziraphale, abruptly overcome with too many memories, had sought refuge in Crowley’s arms. 

“Angel…” Crowley hugged him tight, burying his face in Aziraphale’s soft curls. “I love you so much, angel.”

Aziraphale shivered and pressed closer.


	7. Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go wrong and the Shepards make their move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really not sure about this one at all, but if I keep rewriting it, It's not going to help, So here goes.
> 
> CW: abduction and a gun, although no one actually gets shot.

*~  
 _Don’t make this about yourself, you stupid idiot. Who do you think you are, anyway? You’re nothing. You ought to just be thankful nobody’s gotten rid of you. Yet…_ Aziraphale was standing in the supply room door, trying to get some control of himself. He didn’t want to take the focus off of Vikki, who had been taken to A&E accompanied by Jim and Carlton, but he was so frightened that he could barely think

“Zira?” Maddy’s voice startled him, badly. “You back there?”

"Y-yes, I am. What is it?”

“I just talked to Freddie. Crowley went over to Soho and brought Rose and Tracy back to the Garden Lodge.” She came down the short hall to join him. “Phoebe and – oh heck, I forget who he said, but one of the roadies – are at the shop in case someone tries any funny business.”

“They are?” He was surprised.

She nodded. “Everyone’s nervous. Ned said we don’t have enough to go on, but he’s afraid they’re about to try something nasty.”

“I’m afraid of it,” he admitted.

“Yeah, me too. And is it all right if I plug my phone into your charger? I can’t find mine.”

“Sure, of course.” He followed her back to his desk, unplugging his own phone and, after a moment’s thought, tucking it into his shirt pocket underneath the sleeveless sweater (something Maddy had said was called a “sweater vest” back in the States) for safekeeping. As she did, it chimed with a notification of some sort and she gave the screen a casual swipe.

“Oh. Nothing.” She shrugged. “Brian said I should get a phone like yours, with a fingerprint reader. I’m just too lazy to upgrade.” She had an older model LG, a version or two behind Aziraphale’s current model. “Or at least put a passcode on it.”

“You should before your phone dies,” he said. “Crowley had that one and I think it wouldn’t work after some kind of – I think he said firmware upgrade, whatever that is. He said it – blocked itself? Like – wouldn’t work anymore?”

“Bricked itself, you mean?” She looked at him, then at the phone she’d just picked up. “Really? That’s not good.”

“I think that’s what he said. It installed an upgrade one afternoon and then he couldn’t get it to restart. Or couldn’t get it to stop restarting. The mobile rep said it was stuck in some kind of reboot cycle. He had to get a new phone.”

“Are you sure it was the same one?”

“Pretty sure. His had the same leather back.” Unlike Crowley, Maddy had the default background for both her screen lock and wallpaper. He was rather surprised, given her personality, that she’d never bothered customizing it.

He also realized his sudden focus on her phone was his anxiety trying desperately to resolve itself.

“Didn’t you just get a new one?” Her anxiety wasn’t much better. She wasn’t afraid for herself, but was worried about Aziraphale.

“Yeah. Crowley insisted.” He took it out to show her. “Remember when I drove Prue up to Tadfield and my car died?” He looked sad. “My phone wasn’t holding a charge anymore and I’d forgotten my car charger. I couldn’t get a good signal, so it took me forever to get through to Crowley, and they almost didn’t figure out where I was before it died altogether. It kind of upset him, and that Saturday he told me I was getting a new phone and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.” He smiled as he said it, remembering Crowley at the mobile store, fretting about battery life and telling him to get an unlimited data plan. _Angel, I’ll pay the difference if you need me to, but you need the best._

“Hey, Zira? I did a thing.” Jim came in. “I switched your email from “azshepard” to “azpratchett at blmlaw dot com.”

“Thanks…” Aziraphale’s eyes went wide with surprised gratitude. “It’s going to be such a mess getting all that straightened out.”

“I was going to suggest you just change it by deed poll, but that was before I found out what I did from Rose.” Jim sat on the desk. “I referred her to someone I know well who’s far better-versed in this sort of thing than I am. I think you should probably talk to her as well. She specializes in domestic abuse cases. Let me get her card while I’m thinking about it…” He hurried back to his office, returning moments later with a card reading _Donna Noble, Esq. Family and Estate Law._

“What should I tell her? I wouldn’t even know where to start…” Aziraphale looked hesitant.

“Tell her I referred you and you’re Rose Pratchett’s son. She’ll know who you are,” Jim said. “Don’t be afraid of her. She can come off as being a bit loud and abrupt sometimes, but she’s one of the kindest people you’ll ever meet.”

“I’ve met her. She’s one of my favorite people,” Maddy said. “Big attitude, big mouth, even bigger heart.”

~*~

An hour or so later, Aziraphale had pulled up a train schedule online, with Jim looking over his shoulder, when his computer abruptly blanked out.

“Hey, what the…” Maddy looked around. “My computer just shut down?” It came out as a question in her bewilderment.

“Zira’s did too.” Jim looked around at Maddy, then called to Holly, who was in the breakroom. “Holly? Is your computer working?”

“Let me see.” She came out with a mug and moved the mouse, thinking her screen had just gone on standby. “Uh…apparently not…”

Seconds later, everyone’s computer came back to life with a message:

_Hi, your files are encrypted with NetWalker. All encrypted files have this extension BB3218…._

“What on _earth?!_ ” Aziraphale looked at his screen, wide-eyed, then at Jim.

“Aziraphale, what did you open?!” Chase yelled, charging into the secretarial area. “What did you do?!”

“We were looking at the rail schedule,” Jim replied for him. “Maddy was typing a contract and Holly wasn’t at her desk. Why?”

Chase went very pale.

~*~

Another hour later and it was very obvious that Chase was in well over his head. He had blithely clicked on an email purporting to be information about COVID-19. It had instead launched a ransomware attack. Worse, as Jim and the others quickly realized, he had immediately tried to blame Aziraphale for it – which had fallen apart almost immediately when it became obvious that Aziraphale hadn’t even been looking at his email in the past half-hour leading up to the attack.

“Things happen,” Jim was saying to the three admins. “Any one of us could have clicked on it. I’m just pissed off that he came charging out here trying to throw Zira under the bus.”

They all looked around as Chase came back in, looking defeated.

“Can we come up with 100,000 in Bitcoin by tomorrow?” he said.

“That’s your solution?” Jim glared at him. “Paying the bloody ransom?!”

“I don’t see what else we can do,” Chase said.

“Not happening,” Jim said.

"Hey…” Crowley let himself in with a drink carrier from the coffee shop in the lobby, looking rather tired himself. “Angel? Please tell me you still have that Excedrin migraine stashed in your desk.”

“Right here.” Aziraphale handed him the bottle.

“My angel.” Crowley kissed his cheek, setting the drink carrier down.

“Crowley, are you all right?” Jim said.

“I will be.” Crowley popped a couple of migraine pills and washed them down with his own iced caramel macchiato. “I got it in time. It hasn’t started shift to one side yet.” He didn’t get auras with his migraines, but there was an unmistakable pattern to how they came on – an ache over his eyes, a throbbing at his temples that left him rubbing them in vain, hoping it would go away. Then, if the cycle were uninterrupted, a shift to the right side of his head, turning into a throbbing path of molten agony running from behind his eye over the top of his head to the base of his skull, rendering him nauseous and reeling, blinded by anything more than the dimmest of light, deafened by his own heartbeat, skin laid raw by the slightest touch. The only comfort was Aziraphale, bringing him ice packs and sitting on the bed with him, rubbing his back.

It was no fun whatsoever.

“Are you going to be okay?” Aziraphale said worriedly.

“I’m fine now, my love.” Crowley kissed him softly. “And I think I remembered everyone’s favorites. Cocoa for my angel…” He gave Aziraphale another quick peck on the mouth. “Milk and sugar for you, Jim, black, no sugar for Ned, hot caramel macchiato for Eliza, tazo chai frappe for Maddy and iced vanilla for Holly…”

“If Zira doesn’t marry you, one of us is going to have to,” Ned said with a grin. “What do we owe you?”

“You don’t. My treat,” Crowley said with a tired but genuine smile. “Vikki’s going to be okay, at least physically. Carlton is staying with her.”

“He’s actually really nice. He’s not the brightest, but he really does have a big heart,” Maddy said. “Is she still at A&E?”

Crowley nodded, sitting on the corner of Aziraphale’s desk and sipping iced coffee. He wasn’t sure if it was the coffee, the medication or just having his angel at his side again, but his headache was already easing up. 

“Crowley, you have no idea how much we needed this. Look what just happened,” Holly said, then glanced in the direction Chase had gone. “And that idiot Chase tried to blame Aziraphale for it.”

“What?” Crowley came around to look. “Oh shit…”

“Chase, don’t touch anything!” Jim had followed the hapless tech to his office.

“How did all this happen?” Crowley said, looking at Aziraphale, eyes wide.

“Chase. He opened an email that claimed to be about the coronavirus, but it was – this. Then he tried to say I opened it.” Aziraphale was normally quite forgiving, but he was actually more than a little upset with Chase at the moment. “Jim had asked me to look up the rail schedule to Dunfermline. I wasn’t even on my email when the system went down.”

"And Jim was standing there reading over his shoulder,” Maddy added, equally annoyed. “You know, right now it’s a good thing that Chase won’t let us use the wi-fi for our cellphones.”

“Oh heck, you’re right…” Aziraphale looked at her.

~*~

There wasn’t a lot that could actually be done. Jim finally told Chase in no uncertain terms that he’d be best off leaving for the day.

“I actually have backups of everything up through last night,” he said. “I started doing that because I didn’t quite trust Chase to. I’m just quite honestly not sure I want him reinstalling everything.”

“You’re not paying them, then?” Ned said. “Good. And I think we need a new computer tech.”

Jim nodded. “I think I’m going to go fetch those two hard drives and see what’s what on them.”

“Don’t bring them in here until we wipe all the computers,” Ned said. “Stupid Chase.”

“I’m not. I’m far more pissed off at him for trying to blame Zira for it than for opening that email.” Jim sighed.

Crowley had sat back down on Aziraphale’s desk. Aziraphale, needing contact, leaned against him.

“My angel.” Crowley put his iced coffee down to pull Aziraphale closer, running his fingers through his angel’s soft curls.

~*~

With not much else to do, the others filtered out, with Jim’s blessing. Aziraphale had texted Crowley that he’d be home in about half an hour, then lingered a bit, putting up a last couple of files and locking everything up.

The door burst open.

Startled, he started around the file cabinet – only to be slammed to the floor and have his arms clumsily pinned behind him and zip-tied together – over the sleeves of his coat.

"You think you’re so smart, you little shit…” It was, to his horror, Sandalphon’s voice. “We’re got you now, my pretty. And your little ginger dog, too.” He waved a cellphone in Aziraphale’s face. “He’s going to think it’s you texting him to come over for a quickie in the supply room. But guess what?”

Aziraphale didn’t reply as he was roughly gagged, dragged to his feet and shoved into the supply room, the door slamming shut behind him.

“Fuck. We are _geniuses!_ ” Jed cackled. “He’s going to come in and it’s going to be say hello to my little friend, Smith and Wesson!”

~*~

Maddy, meanwhile, had met up with Brian at the studio nearby when he got a weird text from Maddy’s phone.

_U wanna cum ovr for a quickie in the supply room_

“Uh…” He stared at his phone for a moment, bewildered, then looked at Maddy.

“That’s not from me,” she said, stating the obvious. “I – oh crud. I left my phone on Aziraphale’s desk, didn’t I? I was charging it.” She put a hand over her mouth, looking at him wide-eyed, then grabbed his phone and texted _Hi, who is this?_

_Its Azraphael u wanna cum ovr and shag_ The texter added a couple of wink-wink emojis. Between the misspelling, the emojis and the textspeak, it was very obvious that the texter was _not_ Aziraphale, who had a charmingly fussy habit of texting in complete sentences with proper spelling, grammar and punctuation.

“What the…?” Thinking quickly, she replied, _Be there in a bit. Don’t go anywhere_.

“What are you doing?” Brian said.

“Whoever that is thinks you’re Crowley.” Maddy had put it together very quickly. “My phone was on his desk. I was borrowing his charger.”

“And I told you that you need to get one with a fingerprint lock,” Brian scolded gently. “Come on, let’s find Crowley.” 

~*~

Meanwhile, back in the file room, Aziraphale had easily wiggled out of the zip ties his so-called brothers had tried to restrain him with and pulled the gag out of his mouth.

He was very grateful at that moment that the Shepard brothers were, despite what they thought, complete idiots.

For one thing, the supply room/safe room door actually didn’t lock from the inside. For another, there was a combination lock on the door. They couldn’t get back in. Even if they figured out which four-digit number amid the sticky notes on Maddy’s desk was the combo, it was the wrong one.

And for a third thing – they had Maddy’s phone, not his. He’d put his in his shirt pocket after texting Crowley, fearing he’d forget it on his desk otherwise. It was safe under his sweater. Staying huddled way in the back, he pulled it out and silenced it, texting Crowley: _Where are you?_

Moments later, he received a bewildered text. _Angel? What’s going on? Where are YOU?_ Crowley had been expecting his angel back well before then.

_I’m at the office. I’m safe. Don’t come here. It’s Sandalphon. He and Jed broke in and locked me in the supply room. They think they have my phone, but they have Maddy’s. They’re going to try to lure you here._

_What the actual FUCK?!_

_Maddy’s going to come back looking for her phone and I can’t warn her not to. They’ll kill her if they need to. Jed has a gun. I don’t know where he got it from. I’m safe, There’s a combination on the door and they don’t have it. They think I’m tied up and gagged, so they won’t expect me to answer._

_Angel, hang on, I love you. I’ll get you out of this._

_Don’t come here!_

_I’m coming there all right. Just not alone. I’ll find you._

_Crowley, no!_

Crowley looked around the foyer of the building in desperation. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how long it would take for the cops to get there. It might be too late. And if one of them had a gun…

“Crowley?” It was Maddy Baker’s voice. She was accompanied by Brian. “Have you seen Zira? Something’s weird.”

“I got a text supposedly from him, but it’s from Maddy’s phone. And whoever it was thought I was you,” Brian said.

“Because I forgot my phone wasn’t in my bag. I borrowed his charger and left it on his desk.” She was starting to realize that he was right about the passcode.

Crowley showed them the texts, not trusting himself to speak.

“Holy shit…” Brian went very pale. “We need to call 999. Or Jim.”

“We need to get there right now!” Crowley grabbed at him. “They have my angel!”

“They also have a gun!” Maddy said. “Crowley, they’re idiots. Thank God. They locked Zira in the safe room!”

“What?” Crowley looked at her in bewilderment.

“I guess the law offices that had the space before Jim were either paranoid or dodgy. The supply room is a safe room. The lock and door are bulletproof,” she explained.

“You’re kidding…” Crowley stared at her.

“And the combination on my corkboard is the wrong one,” she said. “Zira’s literally in the safest place he could be in the entire office.”

“Hey, is everything all right?” Hastuer came over, looking concerned, followed by the ever-present Ligur.

“No. And someone give me a phone. I need to call my boss and someone has mine,” Maddy said, holding out her hand.

Hastuer complied, unlocking his phone and handing it to her, then looking at Crowley in bewilderment. “Crowley? What’s going on?”

“Those Shepard bastards have Aziraphale!” Crowley said, sinking down on a bench and putting his hands over his face. “They’ve got my angel…”

“And we’re going to get him back,” Hastuer said grimly.

~*~

Aziraphale didn’t dare try to keep texting Crowley. He was staying in the back, very quiet, so Jed and Sandalphon would think he was still incapacitated.

~*~

Maddy followed Crowley out of the lobby. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get my…” he started, but an imposing figure stepped in front of them, blocking their path.

“You’re coming with me.” The Reverend Dr. Ezekiel J. Shepard said, taking a small handgun out of his coat pocket. “Now.”

~*~

“Oh _fuck!_ ” Ligur, who’d been about to follow them out, looked back at Hastuer. “Now what?!” Shepard had just forced Maddy and Crowley into a white car. The driver had sped off.

“What was that number she called?!” Hastuer found it.

~*~

“No, I think I left it…” Holly was on her phone as she let herself back into the office – only to find herself staring down the barrel of a gun. “What the actual…?”

“Holly!” Beez yelled into the phone as the call went dead.

~*~

Shepard herded Maddy and Crowley into the office. Jed and Sandalphon had locked Holly in Ned’s office, but had neglected to take her phone away. She was texting Jim and Ned, who were coordinating a rescue with police.

“Get the bastard!” Shepard commanded.

Aziraphale had put the gag back in and wiggled back into the ties so they wouldn’t suspect anything. By the time they got the door open, having gotten the combination from Maddy, he was where they thought they’d left him.

“I think we should save him until last,” Sandalphon said, meaning Aziraphale, who he had by the arm. He didn’t realize the zip ties had slid off when he was dragged to his feet. 

“Good idea,” Jed agreed.

Maddy and Holly watched in horror as Sandalphon raised the gun to take aim at Crowley, who was being restrained by the elder Shepard himself. The fact that Sandalphon would likely take his father out as well was no comfort.

As if in slow motion, he pulled the trigger…

And stumbled back as the gun recoiled, sending his gun hand smashing into his face and the bullet into the ceiling tiles instead. Aziraphale pulled free, ears ringing, as Sandalphon hit the floor, dropping the gun. Aziraphale kicked it under the Ricoh. As he did, Crowley stomped hard on Shepard’s foot, making him yell and step back, his dress shoes no match for Crowley’s Doc Martens. Shepard let out an almost inhuman howl of rage – one that poor Aziraphale had heard before many a beatdown – and grabbed Crowley, slamming him into the wall and wrapping his hands around his throat…

A moment later, a sharp, hard blow sent him stumbling. He landed on the floor and found himself looking up at Aziraphale, who had just hit him hard in the side of the head with his yellow umbrella.

“Get away from him!” Aziraphale yelled. It was the first time any of them had heard him raise his voice.

“You fucking sodomite!” He surged to his feet. “Boys! Take them out! All of them!”

“Freeze!”

A second later, two cops took down Shepard as several others grabbed Sandalphon and Jed.

“Angel!” Crowley had Aziraphale in his arms, his face buried in his angel’s soft curls. “Oh fuck, angel…”

“God damn you, you fucking sodomite! God strike you down where you stand!” Shepard bellowed.

“Me?!” Aziraphale looked around, glaring at the elder Shepard. “You kidnapped me, you assaulted my mother…”

“She was a whore. A Jezebel. She got what she deserved,” Shepard sneered. “Too bad she couldn’t shit out anything but defective bastards!”

“Don’t talk about her that way.” Aziraphale’s voice was quiet, not above its usual timorous timbre, but the absolute fury underlying it made even the bullying Shepard recoil. “I don’t even care about what you did to me. I hate you for what you did to her. And the rest of you lot are no better.” He glared at Sandalphon. “You’re not Godly, none of you. You’re the worst kind of hypocrites imaginable. All I can say is thank God I’m not one of you!”

“I should have beaten you to death when I had the chance,” Shepard retorted. “You’re going straight to Hell with the rest of your kind.”

“If all of Heaven is like your lot, then forget it. I’ll race you all to Hell!” Aziraphale shot back.

“He’s got a point,” one of the cops said, looking at Shepard in disgust. “And you haven’t got a prayer, you bastard.”

“What I have done is sanctioned by God Himself!” Shepard bellowed. “You cannot tell me you are not arresting the sodomite and his partner for crimes against God!”

“Come on.” Two cops pulled Shepard to his feet and led him out, followed by Jed and Sandalphon. Once they were gone, Aziraphale burrowed into Crowley’s arms with a shudder.

“Angel…” Crowley couldn’t hold him tightly enough. “We’re safe, angel. We’re safe…” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that fact.


	8. Endings and Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone gets exactly what they deserve.

The next few hours were a proverbial whirlwind of activity. They were interviewed by the police, statements were taken and, much to Maddy’s chagrin, her purloined mobile was admitted as evidence. Crowley ended up watching coverage of the takedown on BBC News while he waited in the lobby of the building for Aziraphale. He could have just gone outside to listen, given that they were right in front of the building, but he didn’t want to risk missing Aziraphale when he finally came downstairs. He was of course being interviewed by police.

“…According to police, Shepard had been stalking his first victim, Rose Pratchett, on social media for some time. He had also been stalking her son Aziraphale…” To Crowley’s surprise (and delight) the reporter pronounced it correctly “…who, according to police, he kidnapped after banishing Ms. Pratchett from the compound in 2006. To that end, he had arranged for Jedidiah Shepard to be employed as a Hermes driver for the route the younger Pratchett’s employer is on, however, the younger Shepard was fired and briefly remanded earlier today after a physical altercation that sent his girlfriend to A&E. After being released on bond, Jedidiah and another Shepard brother, Sandalphon, held Aziraphale Pratchett hostage in the supply room of the office while they attempted to lure Pratchett’s partner, Crowley Deveraux-Gordon, to the office under the pretense of arranging a sexual liaison. Unknown to them, they had the mobile of a coworker, who had forgotten it in the office. Pratchett was able to alert Deveraux-Gordon to the situation, but he and the other coworker, Madrigal Baker, were abducted by the elder Shepard before they could contact police. A friend of Deveraux-Gordon’s was able to contact Baker and Pratchett’s employer, who contacted police and set the takedown in motion.

The elder Shepard, along with his wife, were already under investigation relating to allegations of prolonged sexual and physical abuse toward several young women sent to a “Christian Reform Academy for Wayward Girls” that he advertised extensively. It’s alleged that he assaulted girls as young as thirteen and forced at least three of them, including Rose Pratchett, to carry children to term. He has already been charged in the case of Ms. Pratchett, who he forcibly impregnated twice. He has also been charged with kidnapping Aziraphale to ensure her silence. Aziraphale Pratchett was able to escape about five years ago and is now living in London. He and his partner were recently reunited with Ms. Pratchett, and it’s believed this is what caused Shepard to panic and set his plot – if it could be called one – in motion.”

“Crowley!”

He looked around as Rose ran up and hugged him.

“Rose!” He returned the embrace. “It’s okay, we’re all safe. And you should have seen Zira up there. He took Shepard down with an umbrella.”

“Darlings, we’re just glad everyone’s okay. And that horrid – thing – is getting what he deserves,” Freddie said with a shudder. “They did come sniffing around the shop, but changed their minds when they walked in and Ned came out.” Ned had decided to join Phoebe and the others at Madame Tracy’s. Six feet four inches of angry muscle had been a very effective deterrent, indeed.

“C-Crowley?! Mom?!”

Aziraphale crashed into them, trying to hug both of them.

“Angel!” Crowley and Rose both hugged him tight.

“Sweetheart, are you all right?” Rose said anxiously.

Aziraphale nodded. “Locking me in a supply room is far from the worst thing they ever did to me. I’m fine, really. And it’s over. I don’t think any of them are getting out. Not for a very long time.” He looked around and saw the commotion outside. “What’s all that?” As calm as he seemed, his blue eyes were dazed, gray with shock, puffy and red-rimmed from crying.

“Press.” It was the officer who’d first come in, accompanied by Jim Beach.

Aziraphale hid his face against Crowley’s shoulder. He was trembling.

“Are you okay, angel?” Crowley murmured, stroking his hair as Rose rubbed his back.

Aziraphale nodded, taking a deep breath and looking up. “I just – I’m trying to get my head around everything…” He hid his face against Crowley’s shoulder again.

“It’s going to take some serious DNA testing to figure out whose kids are whose,” a man in a suit said, joining them. He wore a badge identifying him as DI Hardy. “This is a disgusting mess.” He shook his head.

“What do you mean?” Rose said.

“There are more victims than we realized, Ms. Pratchett,” he said.

Aziraphale shuddered. He’d been terrified when he was first taken to the conference room turned command center, certain he was going to be arrested and somehow blamed for the whole thing, which had sent him into a full-blown panic attack. Instead of being arrested – or mocked - he’d been reassured that he was _not_ in trouble, looked over and comforted by medics and a crisis counselor before being put in the care of Hardy, who had sent someone downstairs to fetch him a cocoa with whipped cream from the shop in the lobby, because all they had were coffee pods.

Crowley kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head. “Angel?”

Aziraphale looked up. “Crowley?”

“Are you really okay, love?”

Aziraphale shuddered. “I will be. Eventually. It’s just – a lot all at once.”

“It is for all of us,” Hardy agreed. It was apparent that he was quite upset under his professional exterior.

Aziraphale nodded. “Th-this is my boyfriend, Crowley…” His near-pathological shyness had once again overwhelmed him and he couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze for more than half a second.

“Nice to meet you.” Hardy shook Crowley’s hand. “We may need to get more information from you later. We’ve been investigating Shepard for close to a year now, but we didn’t expect it to turn into this. We were looking into possible tax evasion and money laundering charges. Not – this. They’re all looking at some very significant jail time. Possibly life for a few of them.”

“What about my girls?” Rose said apprehensively.

“They’re in hospital being checked out. We don’t believe any of the female children were sexually abused.” He looked at Aziraphale. “The so-called camp you were sent to shut down last year. The owner intended it to be a military-style physical fitness camp for Christian youth, not – what it had become. He shut it down January of last year.” Shadwell had also turned informant, although Hardy didn’t say as much.

~*~

As they left the building, they found themselves surrounded by reporters.

“Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale froze, looking briefly at Crowley. He was wide-eyed and rather disheveled, holding tightly to Crowley’s hand with his left hand and holding his yellow umbrella in his right.

“Do you have anything you’d like to say?” one asked.

“I-I’m just glad it’s over,” he said, squeezing Crowley’s hand tightly enough to make his boyfriend flinch. Instead of pulling his hand away, Crowley gave his angel’s hand a quick squeeze back.

“Did you know they’d kidnapped you?” another reporter asked.

Aziraphale shook his head. “N-no. I – I thought Rose was my nanny, but – she was the only one who really took care of me. I think I cried for months when Shepard got rid of her. I just feel bad for the other girls. And my sisters.”

“Did you know any of the girls?”

“N-not really. I mean, I saw them around, but…”

“What would you tell Shepard if you could tell him anything right now?”

Aziraphale looked at the others. “Th-that he doesn’t know anything about families, no matter what he thinks. I mean – I’m not sure I do either, but…” He took a breath. “E-everyone I have is about the furthest thing from what he always says a family should be, but they’re all better people than he ever was or ever will be. And for whatever reason, they accepted me. And I’m going to do everything to prove I’m worth it.” He was shaking again, but knew he wanted to get that out.

Freddie swept over and put an arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders. “I just want to tell that horrid waste of air that our dear Zira is everything he’ll never be, we all love him dearly and we’re all quite grateful that he and dear Rose are part of our family now. And dears, if you’ll excuse us, it really has been a long day.” He led them away to a waiting car. 

~*~

The next morning, Crowley awoke to find Aziraphale already up, starting breakfast while BBC News covered “The Fall of Ezekiel J. Shepard.” He was still in blue pajamas under his tartan fleece robe and fuzzy blue slippers, his fluffy curls rather disheveled.

“Happy birthday, beautiful angel.” Crowley kissed him softly.

“You remembered!” Aziraphale looked so pathetically grateful that Crowley’s heart broke a little bit.

“I wasn’t going to forget your birthday, love. And look at you on TV just owning it.” They were replaying part of the quick interview.

“I sound so horrid. And I didn’t realize I was that ugly,” Aziraphale said, looking down at the frying pan he was holding. “I’m such a pig. I really need to lose weight.”

“You’re fine. Stop it.” Crowley hugged him from behind, deliberately squeezing the plush curve of his angel’s belly. “Mmph. So sexy.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale blushed, looking away.

“Well, you are. But seriously, how are you feeling, love?”

“Better.” Aziraphale turned around to kiss him. “That’s not even the worst thing they ever did to me.” He shivered and leaned close. “Are you okay?”

“Just between you and me, love, I knew exactly what was going to happen when he pulled that trigger,” Crowley said, kissing his angel’s nose. “I knew the gun was going to recoil and the shot would go wild. I just didn’t expect him to punch himself in the face.”

“How did you know?” Aziraphale said, wide-eyed.

“My grandpa and a couple of my uncles hunt back in the States. Mostly deer or turkey. They never let me shoot or anything, but they taught me about it. Including the fact that you never hold a gun out the way he was holding it, because it’s going to recoil back and probably break your face.”

“I was more scared for you. I thought he was going to shoot you.” Aziraphale shuddered and pressed closer. “But it’s okay now. They can’t come after my mom – or me - any more.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself of it.

“You’re free, love,” Crowley said. “You and Rose and the others.”

Aziraphale looked down. “I – I also have an appointment to meet with a therapist Monday.” The crisis counselor had set it up after he’d tearfully admitted that his current panic attack wasn’t an isolated event – and that they were getting worse. _Abuse is abuse, and it leaves scars. It’s no different from a physical assault. Getting help is nothing to be ashamed of._

“Good. If they need me to come, I will. You know that, love.” Crowley hugged him tighter.

“I should finish breakfast for you…” Aziraphale started.

“One, it’s your birthday. I’m supposed to be doing that for you, as horrific as that idea is…” Crowley actually intended to take his angel out for a late brunch. “Two, come here, love.”

“Where?” Aziraphale looked confused.

Crowley led him over to the sofa and sat down with him. “I was going to tell you this tonight, but I don’t want to wait.”

All poor Aziraphale could think was _This is it, it’s over. He’s going to dump me on my birthday…_

Crowley took both of his angel’s hands in his. “I always fancied that I was like Jimmy Page, searching for an angel with a broken wing, but I never in a million years thought I’d actually find one – never mind one who loved me. You’re my angel. You’re everything to me. You made this place into a home I can’t wait to come back to every night, because I know you’ll be here to share it with me. You’re brave and compassionate and intelligent and funny and everything that those horrid people tried to beat out of you, and I can’t believe someone who’s so much could love someone like me. And I never want to be without you.” He let go of Aziraphale’s hands to take the small box out of the pocket of his robe. “Aziraphale Pratchett, my love, my darling, my beautiful avenging angel with the broken wing – would you do me the honor of being my husband?”

Aziraphale’s eyes went wide with shock and he pressed both hands to his mouth. He couldn’t get any words out, suddenly terrified that he was in fact dreaming and if he spoke, he would wake up on the miserable sofa in his old flat, alone. All he could do was nod.

Crowley hugged him tight. “Oh angel…”

“Cr-Crowley, I – I…” Aziraphale pushed him back just enough to look into his eyes. “Yes, I – I’ll marry you…!” His voice broke and he clung to Crowley, trying not to sob out loud, overwhelmed by so many emotions at once that he couldn’t even decipher them.

“Angel…” Crowley held him tight, stroking his hair.

“Oh, Crowley…” Aziraphale pulled himself together enough after a few minutes to kiss Crowley – hard. “I love you so much. I’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you, I promise…”

“You already are.” Crowley returned the kiss. “And you didn’t even see the ring yet.”

“If it means I’m going to be your husband, I really don’t care if you got it out of a gum machine – oh Crowley…!” Aziraphale broke off. It was a white gold band with a small, shimmery unfaceted diamond flanked by etched angel wings. “I – I love it! But how did you know what size?”

“Remember when Maddy got you to try her rings on for size?” Maddy always wore several rings. The gold band she wore on her thumb hadn’t fit, but the little turquoise inlaid unicorn ring she wore on her middle left finger (from a jewelry show she’d gone to with her art class in the American equivalent of Grade Eleven) had been a perfect fit for his left ring finger. Maddy had gone with him on his trip to the jeweler’s, partially to bring the ring to have it sized, since she had no idea what size it was, and partially for moral support. “I was surprised you didn’t guess what we were up to.”

“I would never have guessed.” Aziraphale looked at him. “I never thought anyone would ever really want me. Especially not someone like you. You’re sexy and you’re amazing and when I’m with you I feel like I’m worth something and – I never did before. I love you so much.” He kissed Crowley softly. “This is already the most amazing birthday I’ve ever had. It would have been even without being your fiancé. Just having you would have been enough.”

They ended up in another long kiss. When their lips finally parted, Crowley glanced toward the little kitchen. “You’re not doing anything you can’t leave for awhile, are you?”

“I haven’t started doing anything yet…” Aziraphale looked at him.

“Good. I have an idea…” Crowley pulled him to his feet and led him back to the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally wrote the proposal taking place at Aziraphale's birthday party, but given how shy he is, I couldn't really see Crowley doing that to him. 
> 
> And I also wrote a fair bit of Led Zeppelin fanfic at one point, and I just realized that I write Crowley very much the same way I did Jimmy Page. Never mind that when I first read Good Omens, my mental image of Crowley was basically a young Jimmy Page.

**Author's Note:**

> The taco yogurt incident was inspired by Stop & Shop here in the States, whose small sour cream containers looked - well, just like that. I had to pick one up and look at it, because my fist thought was "taco yogurt?! Cool...." Like Crowley, I was rather disappointed. 
> 
> The "belching into the phone" thing actually happened, but the person just resumed talking like it hadn't. One of the many reasons answering the phone at work isn't my favorite thing to do. 
> 
> And I have that cookbook. My mom taught me to bake from scratch with it.


End file.
